Daily Life With Monster Roommates
by Crowscythe
Summary: While there has been much drama happening for young human host Kurusu Kimihito, in Japan, a young woman named Kaylynn Dorsey has fallen under the same list of candidates for the Cultural Exchange Between Species Program. Now she is currently sharing residence with a Jersey Devil named Ray, and her life as a host has only just begun. Original story belongs to the respectful owner
1. Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

Rapid footsteps stamping through the wet, black grass, accompanied by the frantic panting and racing beat of a human heart pumping blood like rocket fuel as the cold air scraped at her cheeks and nipped her nose. Her terrified eyes would glance back every ten dashing paces behind her, hoping to see nothing and finally rest her weary legs. But her ears would already tell her that it would be a futile assurance as the deep, thunderous beating of gargantuan wings loomed over her like an evil cloud, casting an overwhelming shadow over her head from the ominous yellow light of the moon.

She knew it was still there, still chasing, still hunting, and still gaining on her with every, powerful, booming flap. It was so close now, so close she could practically feel its hot breath on the back of her neck. Yet, the closer it got, the harder she ran. Her legs moved like the steady rising of the winding arms that give a steam train motion.

Despite her most desperate attempts for survival, scuttling through the thick brushes, darting through the dark trees, and leaping over the marsh pits, her hunter's pursuit trumped her every escape. Finally, her legs could no longer linger, as she crumbled to her knees, her gaze turning towards the beast that towered over her tired body. Though the moon, crowned over the monster's skull, illustrated only the silhouette, she could easily depict the distinctive features the creature's body displayed.

A pair of large, leathery wings that remained outstretched and broad to cast an even more massive shape.

Thick, curvy, antler-like horns that invoke a hellish disposition.

A burly, yet lean, muscular body, twice the size any mortal man could ever hope to produce.

Massive, razor sharp claws, that gleamed like steal, powerful enough to tear flesh like wet paper, or pierce iron like foam.

Brawny hind quarters, stabled by large, sturdy cloven hooves.

And a long, slender tail, ending in a deadly spade.

The most distinguishing trait that she saw was the feral, glowing golden gaze that challenged the vibrancy of the moon, that pierced her deeper than the creature's own talons. Its demonic stare was feral, and deep with malicious crave. As it opened the gaping maw of its horse-like muzzle, clouding its gleaming, sharp teeth in a plume of noxious vapor, it prepared to let out a howl as though to announce to the world it has claimed its prey at last.

Suddenly, just when the beast inhaled, as the girl, eyes wide with dread, bracing herself for the inevitable end…

The monster starts breaking into song as it danced to the beat of the melody and chanted the lyrics in a high octane voice, "You're the one that want-the one that I want! HOO-HOO-HOOOO~!"

Kaylynn's eyes snapped open; her ocean blue eyes were abruptly met with the blinding glare of the morning sun that shone through the window. Her ears rang with the blaring music of her alarm clock radio, producing the classic tune of Grease.

After wincing, shutting her gaze just as fast after receiving a nice dose of vitamin D in her eyeballs, she slowly rose from her shambled sheets. Her maple brown hair was a complete mess, as though a bird had tried to make it its home. One of the straps of her white and black lined tank top hung loose over the side of her left shoulder.

Managing to reach over, sluggishly, to the off button of her annoyingly programmed clock, she dragged herself out of bed, her hands continuingly scaling the floor until she found the wrinkly jeans she had worn the day before. She languidly, pulled her used pants up over her slender legs to cover the underwear she carelessly left exposed when she slept.

After stretching her arms, and extending her chest out, she let out a gaping yawn that was soon interrupted by the call of a masculine voice from outside the bedroom.

"Kay! If you're up, I have breakfast ready!" it beckoned her with the fallowing smell of the warm buttery scent of pancakes.

As though she was in a zombie-like trance, she followed the aroma to its source. There, she found herself in the kitchen, seeing a creature standing over the stove with a frying pan in one claw, and a bottle of syrup in the other.

It was the same beast that haunted her dream, with all the same body parts that were portrayed so vividly, but now in color.

Its skin was a murky maroon, until it reached the end of its tail that transitioned into a vibrant, saturated crimson. The wings, now folded and tucked against its back to grant what little space was left in the kitchen to be open, had folds that had a thinner shade of red that almost gave off a fleshy pink tint.

Claws were black as coal, yet shined like marble, and the cloven hooves were a gritty brown, just like the horns, but retained an oddly smooth surface.

She could also see a bushy, black, mane that streamed from between its horns and cow-like ears, all the way down to the center of its spine.

The monster was so massive it had to hunch over its cooking just so the tip of its antlers didn't stab the ceiling, easily dwarfing the five foot girl by at least three more.

However, as if the scene wasn't odd enough, when the creature noticed Kaylynn's entry he turned to her, a friendly smile stretching across his dragon snout, and revealed that over his bare chest and tightly worn jeans that stopped at his bulky hocks was a ridiculously small apron. Its white cloth was plastered in the center with large, red, bold letters that read simply, "**ONE HELL OF A COOK**"

"Morning sleepy head!" the creature greeted enthusiastically as he flipped another pancake over the stove. Despite his size, his tone and voice were surprisingly tenor and smooth. His grinning expression was so decent and friendly that it completely brushed away any facial details that would've been consider other wise disturbing.

Kaylynn, her eyes still heavy, scratched the side of her scalp as she eventually replied in a dry, slothful voice, "Ray…how many pancakes did you make…?"

"Just enough for both of us." He answered casually, "three for you, nine for me. In fact I just used the last of the batter."

The messy-haired girl inhaled deeply before letting out a gentle sigh. She then said, "Ray…I just bought that batter yesterday…and you already…USED IT UP!?"

Her screams of rage shook the entire house, scaring the birds off the roof and startling any children that had been playing nearby.

Yet again, another eventful morning in the life the host girl and her unusual roommate.

* * *

For the month of Hallow's eve, I have started this story, inspired by a recent manga that had caught my eye. The sexual orientation that is thick within the story's content may leave a distasteful feeling, but it still retained an oddly curious charm.

To also add, I have named the female protagonist after my beloved sister whom has shared many Halloweens with me over the years. Sadly, we are now states apart and she misses me just as much as I miss her.

So, if you some how find this story, sweet little Kaylynn, know that i love you very much and that i'm always thinking about you.

Warm love from your big brother-

Jacob

And thank you to others who have read this and i hope you have enjoyed it. More will come in due time.

Till then, with humble respects and gratitude-

Crowscythe.


	2. Chapter 2: Legends vs Facts

Kaylynn blinked before responding, "You came here to do what, Mr...?"

"Jones, Ms. Dorsey." The black suit corrected with polite demeanor. The agent, a Caucasian male in his mid thirties, of the US government stood at her door. His thick black hair with a gel shine was combed back neatly, matching a well trimmed goatee. His eyes were hidden by a slim pair of shades, but masking his presumptuously smirking expression would've been impossible even if he had a bag over his head.

"I'm here on official business to inform you that you've been selected as a potential candidate for our Interspecies Exchange Program." The agent explained with synthetic punctuation

"Yeah, I got that the first time..." Kaylynn retorted, rather annoyed at how discretely snarky he was, "I'm asking what's that suppose to mean?"

"Oh, forgive me, ma'am. I had thought the rest would be self-explanatory."

"Fuck you!" Or, at least, that's what she _wanted_ to say in her reply. The passive-aggressive sarcasm this "coordinator" practically radiated was enough to make her temper itch. Instead of getting busted for showing aggression against a representative of the American embassy, she bit her tongue and continued to listen.

"We would like you to be a family host for one of our listed extraspecies applicants." He explained.

"You want me to share my two-room apartment with...",She almost said monster before correcting herself, "another tenant..?"

"Oh, certainly not!" He replied sincerely, "We plan to have you and your, well, as you put it, 'tenant' live in one of our established households."

"Wait. Hold on a second...You want me to move into a house? Like, an _actual_ house? With its own ventilation, heating, kitchen, lighting, Wi-Fi-"

"We have all the accommodations accounted for, ma'am." He confirmed her abruptly, but politely.

"...even cable?"

"Would you prefer dish, or comcast?" He smirked.

Kaylynn was ready to jump at this golden chance, but stopped herself and asked one last critical question.

"And the bills? No doubt are more than what I can afford..."

"Ah, but that's the thing, ma'am." he retorted, "Government Programs are Government _funded_."

She felt a little incompetent for over looking that fact.

The agent smiled amusingly, "Don't worry, we can talk more about the expenses later. Assuming you don't _want_ to be involved in this significant program that could no doubt change our entire society system for the better...?"

Kaylynn bit her lip, hesitant to answer...She glanced behind her, looking at her cramped, barely functional, poorest excuse for a 'living' room that was meshed with an even more pathetic looking kitchen with a broken down sink. The walls were a pale, dry beige, cracked and chipped. In one of the upper corners near the ceiling was mold that had been festering since before she moved into. The carpet was rough and stagnate with the stink of animal hair from past owners. The only thing that would make this place less appealing is if the walls oozed with green slime, though the mold would be pretty damn close...

It didn't take a genius to figure that what the black suit offered was ultimately better, but could this derail her plans for herself? What she aspires to become as a career...?

After another moment to think, she turned back to the agent and said, fully earnest, "When can I move?"

About a day later, Kaylynn was driven to the house that was promised to her. There was still much paperwork to be filled before the moving arrangements could begin. This was just to have a preview of what to expect.

The house itself was a subtle surprise. It wasn't over extravagant or obnoxiously fancy. It was modestly decent in how it was built. Roughly large enough for a family, tucked cozily in a seemingly complacent neighborhood, and looked as typical as one could expect. For some, it didn't seem so impressive, but for Kaylynn, who had been living in a run down apartment complex that should've been condemned back in the fifties, this was a step up. A _huge_ step up.

"Wow..."Kaylynn looked impressed, "So this is where I'll be staying? I thought it be further away from where I work."

"Actually, this neighborhood is closer to the coffee shop." Jones replied.

Kaylynn turned back at the agent with a smirk, "I might actually start to like you, Mr. Jones." She meant only to tease, but she was starting to get second thoughts if cracking jokes like that in front of a government agent was a good idea...

She cleared her throat as she tried to change the subject and said, "So...uhm...where is the other tenant? You said he'd be here?"

"Ah, actually, there he is now." He replied, staring down the end of the street behind the girl as a large black moving truck came around the corner.

"Wait, I thought we were here just to _look_ at the house? Is the other tenant moving in sooner?" Kaylynn asked curiously.

"Oh, you'll see." The coordinator replied with the same audacious smirk, as though he was anticipating just how exactly young Ms. Dorsey would react.

As the vehicle pulled up on the drive way, Kaylynn stared at the truck wondering just what kind of extraspecies wat'cha-ma-call-it could be in there. Her knowledge of the multiple races was only as accurate as the News network would allow to say on the air. From what she currently understood about them is that they all, in one way or another, were still relatively humanoid. The only few exceptions were extreme cases like the Centaurs or Driders, but even then, they still had recognizable human traits.

No doubt whatever..._who_ever was arriving was going to be just that; a person that just happens to have some kind of extra animal appendage or animal trait. Maybe some kind of guy with dog ears, or maybe because he's coming in a truck, maybe he was a centaur like the ones on the news, or maybe he has the lower torso of a large snake, or maybe he is just...

The back of the haul opened up as the driver came around to escort the passenger out. However, what came lumbering out into the front yard made her skin turn as pale as a ghost.

"Ms. Dorsey..." Agent Jones prepared the introductions, "Meet your fellow tenant, Ray Mercardo."

The creature extended his claw out to shake her hand as he said cheerfully, "You can just call me Ray!"

Kaylynn was completely paralyzed. Staring wide-eyed at a creature she thought only existed in witness sketches and cheesy cryptid documentaries. Yet here it was standing before her-rather _looming_ over her-wearing pale jeans that barely reached his hocks, and a blue flannel shirt over a white T with a logo called "Bumbling Beelzebub"

"Y-You're the...Jersey Devil...?" she managed to finally mutter

"_A_ Jersey Devil." Jones corrected, "There's more than one."

"Oh, hey, before we go inside, I need to stretch out my wings." Ray interjected politely, "Ive been cramped in the back of that truck for two hours..."

His wings, tucked and folded so close to his back that they looked more like a leathery cape, suddenly expanded and elongated into the biggest pair of bat wings Kaylynn had ever seen. They looked large enough to fly away with a cow if he wanted to.

"Ahhh~! Much better..." Ray said satisfyingly. He then looked back at Kaylynn and asked, "So what is your name agai-Oh god what happened!?" He panicked after seeing Kaylynn faint...

It had been 3 weeks since they first moved in together, and though, at first, Ms. Dorsey was more than uneasy to be living with a devil, she adjusted quickly and soon came to realize what kind of person Ray was. And though, while she found comfort in knowing that Ray wasn't as terrifying as he looked, she soon learned the drawbacks of living with another tenant.

One of them being a constant exhaust of food.

"Look, I said I was sorry." Ray insisted, pleading for Kaylynn's forgiveness as he pushed the tiny cart. "I thought it would be nice for you to have a more enjoyable breakfast. You came back at such a late hour last night, figured pancakes would ease your morning..."

"I get your intentions, Ray, but the fact that you keep using up almost all the food before it could even last a week is getting irritating!" Kaylynn replied sternly.

"I cant help it! I have a bigger metabolism. Its not like I eat more food than you out of habit..."

Kaylynn sighed, calming her tone, "I know, I know...But we got to figure out how to fix that. You and I cant keep making trips to the grocery store every three days. By the way, when are you gonna get that new job, aren't you running out of money?"

Ray sighed as well, but even deeper, "Dont remind me...The agency has been kind enough to give me spare cash for emergencies for the sake of the program, but I cant keep asking them...Not to mention its harder to find a job here compared to my old town."

"That's right, I've never bothered to ask. What kind of job did you work at before now?"

"Taverner."

Kaylynn blinked, stopping herself to turn at Ray directly and said in disbelief, "You were a bartender?"

"What? Is it that hard to believe?"

"N-No...well...", Admittedly, this whole situation would've been considered unbelievable if had happened three years ago. Picturing a Jersey Devil serving alcoholic beverages at a local tavern was...less than simple.

"Ohh!" Ray had comprehended her confusion, "You're thinking of human owned taverns." but assuming a slightly wrong kind of impression.

"No no, I worked at a _family_ owned tavern under my Pop's name. Humans never knew about it until very recently." He explained.

"Wait, so when you were a government secret, they can allow you to own business's like that?"

"As long as it was out of the way of human areas. My dad was always a charitable kind of guy, and hiding from humans at the time was hard for some of the fellow extraspecies. Especially those who were traveling discreetly from one county to the next. That's what my family did for a living, we opened up a tavern to help weary travelers whenever they were lucky enough to pass by."

Kaylynn's expression brightened a little as she smirked, "Well, that's actually kind of awesome of your family." Now that she thought about it, it wasnt so hard to believe. She remembered the T-shirt Ray had worn when they first met. 'Bumbling Beelzebub' sure sounded more like a place for beer and lodging than anything else.

"Its certainly a much better story than the one about that crazy witch lady story." she added as the two continued to walk down the isle.

"You mean Mama Debby?" Ray replied curiously

Kaylynn stopped again, glancing back at him as though, as if he couldnt look any more strange, growing a second head, "Are you about to tell me that part of the Jersey Devil story is true, too?"

Ray scratched the back of his mane, "Well, I dont know about her being a 'crazy witch' but she's my..." he counted his claws for a moment before continuing, "great, great, great, great-"

"Grandma!? You are related to a human!?" she realized she just raised her voice inappropriately, and quickly quelled her tone before continuing to say quieter, "How in the world does THAT work?"

Ray's left ear slanted awkwardly as he looked down at her, "Yeah, she was the first human in my family's history to bear children like, well, me. But lots of extraspecies can breed with humans. Just ask the Lamias." he said as though it were common knowledge.

"But aren't you guys a bit...ya know...?"

Ray looked more confused "a bit...what?"

"C'mon...! You know...a bit..." she tried to describe with her hand gestures, but clearly missing the mark.

Ray only squinted, his brain struggling to understand, "uhh..."

The woman's cheeks were reddening, not just with embarrassment, but with frustration, "you know what, forget it. J-just...forget it!"

She then walked ahead of him even further as she rushed through the shelves, continuing to shop.

"W-Wait! Kaylynn! What do you mean?" He followed after her, desperate to know.

"It doesnt matter, Ray! Lets just finish up here!" She still looked flustered.

"But what were you trying to say!?"

"Nothing, Ray!"

"C'mon~! Its gonna be stuck in my head now!"

"JUST DROP IT!"

With the shopping trip finally concluded. The two had decided to leave that conversation alone for another time. Good thing they did so, otherwise they may have had been thrown out of the store for disturbing the other customers.


	3. Chapter 3: Fashion is Function

High over the town of his dwelling, Ray, aloft and boundless by his prevailing wings, glided through the sky. He managed to schedule an interview with a potential employer near the industrial area of the city. The devil was more than eager to finally have an opportunity to earn some income, so he was sure to dress his best. Fashioning a splendid attire with a striking black buttoned up shirt and sleek, shaded blue jeans that wrapped around his waist perfectly comfortable. He even had his mane trimmed and groomed. How he was able to make his appearance so luxuriously compatible was a miracle conducted only by the resourcefulness of his roommate.

Ray began to reminisce the day when Kaylynn offered her help to him.

Four days ago, Ray had just finished a call. That blessed call that sprung such a powerful throb of excitement. He paid his thanks to the employer on the receiving end, respectfully, but the moment the connection ended, leaped with joy, nearly shaking the whole house as his bulky hooves made a loud, clumsy clop against the hard floorboards.

"Aww-YEAH, son!" He cried for joy, his spaded tail swishing eagerly.

Kaylynn, alerted by the sudden cheer, she came out of from the kitchen with a half-made sandwich as she found an incredibly blissful jersey devil in the living room.

"Did you win the lottery or something, big guy?" She said, jovially.

"I got something just as good!" He retorted, joy gleaming in his gilded eyes, "I got an interview on Tuesday. HAH!" He makes a sharp clap against the palms of his talons.

"Nice one!" She exclaims with an empathetic gesture, "So what are you gonna wear?" She inquires curiously.

Ray's invigorated motion went to a sudden halt, silence choking his words before he finally managed to say, "I thought...maybe like this...?"

The clothes he was currently wearing were similar to the style of attire when he had first moved in. Only this choice of garbs was a bit...well, if Kaylynn had to use a _kinder_ description, she would probably call it _less than casual._ He had on an unopened flannel shirt, red instead of blue, worn over a tattered, grey tank-top. At his waist, he had a pair of shorts of a dull beige. However, the assortment of clothes proven to have aged rather unfavorably. There was a massive tear in the right shoulder of his shirt, missing three buttons as well, and, though it was doubtful Ray had noticed, but there was a barbeque sauce stain at the base of his tank-top. His pants weren't in the best state either, the waist looking strained; stretched even, suggesting that it was a size too small for him.

It only took half a second for Kaylynn to finish her analysis before replying, bluntly, "Shopping trip."

Ray's left ear slanted, "Uh, but we just got a bunch of foo-"

"Shopping trip." She repeated, turning away as she jammed the snack in her mouth, reaching for her coat on the hanger next to the door. She grabbed her keys from the pocket, then turned back around, moving with a sudden purpose. She took Ray's wrist, steadily leading him out the door as she muffled through two slabs of bread and belloni, "Shmping trmp, mrm!"

Under strict instructions, the jersey devil had been ordered to meet his roommate at the mall, seeing as how his size isn't exactly attuned with Kaylyn's tiny Seat Ibiza. He wanted to rebuttal, but there was a look of unbreakable insistency that made her blue eyes burn like sapphire flames.

Bound by his own principles, he could only acknowledge and respect the lady's wishes with reluctant compliance. He wasn't sure what Kaylynn intends to buy though, she seemed like such a penny-pincher before now, with understandable reasoning. But, his curiosity was soon answered once he had met up with her again.

His roommate was waiting for him near the south entrance, standing in front of the JCPenny. After Ray descended down to her, he noticed the store brand above them and inquired curiously, "Okay...what are we doing _here_...?" He had thought that this was about more groceries, but now he was even more perplexed of Kaylynn's intentions.

The woman let out a gentle sigh of minor exasperation, a tad surprised that Ray hadn't figured it how obvious this was. She looked up at the devil and tried to hint it at him.

"Ray, take a look at me and tell me what am I wearing right now."

The extraspecies stared at Kaylynn blankly, humoring her riddle. She wore a scoop neck t-shirt, sown thinly in a faded turquoise, matched with a pair of tightly fitted jeans that complimented her dark, flat-padded, laced shoes. Not understanding her point yet, he simply gives her a literal answer, "Uhm...Shirt, pants, and shoes?"

The young woman decides to be more blunt, "No, Ray. I am wearing _appropriate_ clothes."

Ray's brow scrunched, however, over the time he had spent with Ms. Dorsey, he had learned to notice fairly quickly that this human liked making enigmas out of her points. He took a look at himself, realizing some of the flaws of his dress choices. His ears continued to betray him as they displayed his true expressions, drooping down loosely to convey his embarrassment.

"Okay, maybe not like _this_..." He retorted, trying to remain unruffled despite his modest expression.

"It's just..." he began again, Kaylynn listening patiently, "All my clothes are hand-me-downs from my Pops. But you can't buy better clothes for me, I mean, aren't you tight on money as..."

Kaylynn stops him with the sympathetic hand gently grabbing his claw, "I can spare a few dollars out of my savings for your sake, Ray. And you _deserve_ a job..." he then takes him towards the door as she added tenaciously, "So we're gonna make that employer think the same way!" Though, in actuality, she refrained herself from admitting a second reason that tucked away within the confines of her grey matter; if Ray couldn't keep himself financially stable and was forced to go home, she would too have to move back to her apartment...the stingy, old, forsaken one.

After entering the store, the two began to browse and peruse through the racks of decently designed clothing. It was easy enough to find many forms of attire with acceptable quality, however, what started out as a seemingly easy, ten-minute task turned into a frustrating half hour ordeal. Every outfit, that _would_ look good on the cryptid, was proven utterly useless because of Ray's sheer, incompatible mass.

"UUGHHH...!" Kaylynn let out an exasperated groan, nearly at the limit of her efforts.

Ray glances down at his roommate with a slanted ear, "Why are you trying to sound like an orc?" His sincerity was confused for sarcasm as he received an irritated glare.

The human woman recoiled her anger as she sighed and retorted apologetically, "I'm just...realizing how hard this turned out to be. The biggest size I can find barely fits you! I mean...like..._your_ clothes. How is it that you can find rags like those in your size, but nothing nicer?"

Ray only shrugs, "like I said, These are my Pop's hand-me-downs, you'd have to ask him."

Kaylynn choked, realizing that her last remark may have been insensitive.

However, a third, more feminine voice interjected and said hospitably, "Excuse me, is there anything I could help you with?"

The two turned their attention to the third party, greeted by an employee of the establishment. Kaylynn was about to respond but her eyes were suddenly caught by the worker's lower torso, noticing an indigo serpent's tail instead of human legs. It took her a moment, but she realized that this was one of those "Lamia" extraspecies mentioned on the news. Before her staring could linger on the border of rudeness, she quickly looked back up at the JCPenney representative. The lamia had a name tag, written in sharpie ink under the name of "Talisha." Her hair was tide up into a bun, the color matching the scales and pointed ears. Her eyes were a vibrant amber, pupils sharp, much like her reptilian counterpart. But, despite the abnormalities that Kaylynn perceived, she recognized the friendly and respectable demeanor.

She quickly responded and said, "Actually, we're looking for some clothes for my friend here..."

"But you cant find a size for him?" The employee presumed accurately with a empathetic smile.

"Pretty much..." Kaylynn admits with a modest chuckle.

Talisha gave a sympathetic snicker in return, "Don't worry, you're in luck. We actually just opened up a new section of the store."

"Wait, you did...?" Ray's ears perked up.

"Of course! Many of our branded stores are trying to compensate for the new demographics. If you follow me this way, I'll help you out."

The serpent lady proved very useful as she lead them to the proper section of the store; labeled under "Extraspecies Male/Female Fitting." Kaylynn was utterly both in awe and baffled by the different types of clothing that fitted a menagerie of different extraspecies.

There was shirts and suits with four to six sleeves.

Trousers and jackets with openings in the back to compensate for tails and wings.

Blouses and skirts for Centaurs and other multi-legged creatures.

Socks and stockings for hooves and talons.

There was even types of underwear that Kaylynn couldn't begin to comprehend in functionality. The more bizarre the assortment of attire she discovered, the more she wondered just how diverse the...people like Ray were.

The jersey devil however was feeling less excited. He had assumed that now they could find clothes in his size, they'd find a piece, and be done. Should be as simple as that. But he underestimated the female's indulgence for fashion and variety. Pair after pair of clothing, Ray endured what felt like hours of an endless loop, he would walk out of the fitting room only to go back in to try on yet another set of garments.

Boredom choking out the last of his patience, Ray pleads with stifled exasperation in his fitting stall before opening the door, "Can this one be the last? I do have other things to take care of before the interview..." He tries to slip in a convenient excuse to emphasize his reasoning.

A reluctant sigh escaped Kaylynn's mouth, the employee snickering sweetly next to her. Their expressions of enjoyment were blatantly obvious, but they aloud Ray to keep his sanity and complied.

As Ray stepped out of the stall, he was met with a pair of surprised faces. Though it was Kaylynn that assembled these garments, she didn't think they would look _this_ stunning on him. The onyx black cloth of his buttoned shirt melded exquisitely with his bulky shoulders, the top two buttons he forgot to seal up left an opening just wide enough to expose his chunky collar bone, and the sleek fabric that wrapped around his waist made him seem even slimmer than she would have noticed before. The sleeves were just the right length to compliment his forearms, the folds in the back gave his wings no constraint or discomfort, and the jeans, though seemed so tight, and yet were so flexible. The pants that left such a deep imprint of blue were long enough to reach just before his hooves instead of being rolled out or worn down up to his hocks. Even with his tail exposed in the back freely, it seemed to have made it even more appealing.

Ray, confused by their silent expressions, he replied irritably, "Don't tell me this doesn't look good either...?"

Kaylynn snapped out of her gawking before she said with an initial stutter, ""O-Oh! No, no, that's not it. In fact you look hot!" She stopped herself, realizing what she had spat out before thinking. "READY!" She adds before things could become awkward, "Hot and_ ready_ to go!" though it seemed her desperate attempt only partially worked.

Ray, his ear assuming the typical slant, replied, "Oh...Okay then...So I guess that means we're done here?"

The employee let's another snicker slip by as she glances at the human female with a suggestive eye. She then adds before slithering away, "If you are, you can find me at the register than...Hot stuff." though it was highly indicated as a friendly tease directed at Kaylynn, she left a soft blush on the devil's snout as he chuckled shyly with a claw on his mane.

Kaylynn, doing her best to smother the fluster, she turns to Ray in an attempt to change the subject, "Ok! So...now that your fashion dilemma is out of the way, are you gonna do anything about your hair?" she gestured to the messy mane that draped over his head and neck. He thought that she hadn't noticed, but his lochs had grown significantly over the past few weeks without given much care other than shampoo and maybe the occasional combing.

However, after enduring such an experience of shopping for clothes with this human combined with the secret, though soon to not be, fact that this jersey devil deplored hair cuts, his response was quickly apparent.

A brief chase to the nearest exit later...

"I DONT NEED TO GET A CUT!" Ray shouts insistently, desperately trying to pry himself out the door without damaging the frame.

Kaylynn had managed to snatch him by the end of his spaded tail, though she would have been dragged off if it weren't for the assistance of the Lamia employee, Talisha, aiding her shortly after. Even then, with her tail coiled and anchored around a nearby support pillar, they could barely maintain their grip.

"YOU NEED-TO LOOK-PRESENTABLE!" She barks back loudly with every tug. Even with another's aid, the woman had surprisingly firm hands for someone so petite.

"Besides, I haven't paid for those clothes yet!" She adds insistently.

Eventually though, Ray reluctantly conceded. Given the promise of a meal at a restaurant of his choosing if he managed to get the job. Kaylynn learned very quickly that the value of food was her best bargaining chip when needing his compliance. Needless to say though, Ray hardly enjoyed that experience either, even with the assurance of the finest steak house in the Mideast.

None the less, the ordeal was over, and he was now fully prepared for the interview. When the day finally came, he had made sure to follow his roommate's instructions to a T. Less he would never hear the end of her nagging.

He continued to soar over the neighboring streets, proceeding his way towards his scheduled destination. He didn't show a single hint of hesitation or worry. His eyes were brimming with confidence, assured of himself that he'll earn this job, and have the pleasure of tasting the tantalizing wonder of thick, juicy, grilled beef. Just anticipating the delicious scent of cooking meat salivated his mouth. Imagining the texture, visualizing the potential size, fantasizing the mass quantity that could be bought at such reasonable prices...made him all the less attentive of his surroundings.

Suddenly, knocked out of his gluttonous fantasy, more literally than he would have appreciated, something collided at him from just out of his line of sight. The next thing he realized, he had spiraled into a tree, crashed through the branches, then finally meeting the ground with a thick splat.

He was fortunate he had been hurtled into a softer impact, but was far more distraught that he had landed in a small mud pit. He had thought the sopping ground from yesterday's rain had dried up completely, but seeing himself completely caked in rancid soil had debunked his initial impression.

from the end of his snout, to the bottom of his cloven hooves, he was covered in layers of mud and muck. To add even more dismay, his attire had suffered tears and rips from the tree branches. And finally, to complete the trifecta of poor karma, his cell phone was damaged in the fall, preventing him from contacting the interviewer to reschedule. Physically, he hardly sustained any injuries, but his optimism was utterly shattered like a glass urn.

He didn't know who or what it was that had knocked him out of the sky. The only clue was a few molted feathers on the ground, black as a raven's but far larger than any known bird, at least...recorded by humans that is.

It didn't matter now though. whoever was responsible had left the scene by now. A few near by pedestrians came to help him, checking if he was unharmed by the fall. But, he gave them his thanks, but refused their help. He instead took the long walk back home, not even able to fly due the extra weight of the moisture absorbed into his fur, less he wishes to expend twice the energy to take flight, and he was already emotionally exhausted...

Kaylynn had just returned from her shift at the coffee shop, after her initial surprise seeing Ray back home much sooner than she had expected, it only took her a moment to notice the bleak expression on the Jersey Devil's cheerless muzzle. Ray had already changed out of his ruined clothes, and had showered the remaining filth off his body, but the aura of failure permeated around him like a glooming shroud.

Instead of being upset, she merely gave him an empathetic smile and reached for his shoulder to give it a gentle pat.

"Don't worry about it, Ray...you'll find plenty of other opportunities." She say's softly, her tender words rousing a hint of sanguinity in the sad devil.

Though, in the past, she was quick to agitate, but seeing Ray with such a defeated look in his eyes that dulled their golden tint, made her want to put the shine back in his gaze before doing anything else.

Though, admittedly, when Ray had confessed of what had happened to the new clothes later that day, the young woman could barely hold herself from letting out a horrible wail. She knew Ray was guilty enough as it was, but her mind kept replaying the fact that she had spent two of her paychecks worth in money only to show nothing for it.

Rather than letting her frustration explode in a torrent of screams, an unfortunate, battered pillow served as a alternate catalyst for her venting.

If she only knew what would happen in the near future...


	4. Chapter 4: It Stares Awkwardly

It had been less than a week after the incident with Ray. Jones had been informed of the circumstances the day after the occurrence and had promised thusly, "I understand the issues you and Ray are having. Considering the implications of this situation, I'll look into any potential suspects that were responsible."

It was the first time Kaylynn had ever seen the agent be serious with his job, though she thought an 'investigation' may have been a bit overboard. But, Jones insisted that, by the laws that have been established during the Extraspecies Exchange Program, all extraspecies, cryptids, and liminals had inherited full citizenship and rights. Implied that, just as any other human civilian, all extraspecies had to abide by the law. If Ray was indeed knocked out of the sky by another extraspecies and had chosen to flee the scene instead of assisting, then it is regarded as an act of assault.

He may have seemed facetious and conceit, but Jones' dedication to the program had proved him to be inarguably professional.

For Ray though, it was back to job searching as usual, fortunately, Jones promised him a replacement for his phone...though didn't reimburse Kaylynn for the ruined set of garments she had originally purchased.

As she recalls, he explained it something as, "A device with the means of both viral access and telecommunications is a higher priority than _fancy clothes._"

She was suddenly reminded once again why she detested the damn black suit.

He was right, mostly, but that was all the more reason why she had disdain for the man.

Today was her day off, however, and she decided to help gain some of her money back, to try her luck at a pawnshop. She still had a few possessions from when she was younger that steadily proven more space consuming than useful. She can blame her massive family for constantly giving her Christmas gifts that were no longer relevant to her despite her say.

Did it seem a tad _callous_?

Perhaps, but it is not that she disrespects her family's compassion, she just knows that living as an adult sometimes means making difficult decisions, besides...

"What they don't know wont hurt them."

"One man's trash, is another man's treasure."

"I just need money!"

These were some of the many phrases she was constantly telling herself to keep her conscience at bay as she drives off to town with a handful of odd items in the back seat. Most of it was small, cheap jewelry like earrings or bracelets that she had grown out of long ago. In fact many of her belongings were from since she was only a child.

Including an old rain coat, a flute that she long since lost interest in playing, a small box of DVDs, some copies she wondered how she ever liked in the first place, and then, a single stuffed animal. It was arguably one of her oldest possessions; a plushy elephant, named after a character in one of her favorite movies back in her adolescence.

She couldnt expect much prophet, but she knew she would get at least _something_.

It wasn't long since she managed to find the shop. It was a local establishment, under the name of "Pawn Tree."

The pun made her want to gag.

She entered the shop with her assortment of tradable goods, preparing to greet herself, "Hello, I'm here..." only to almost drop her belongings from being shocked.

Upon accessing the store, completely oblivious to all the vintage collectables and sellable items that decorated the entire shop like a small museum, her eyes instantly locked to another pair of massive red ones staring back at her from the cash register.

The glowing, crimson orbs belonged to an extraspecies, one she was not familiar with. At first, she thought she was seeing a living shadow, but managed to recognize it as something else.

An owl was the closest description she could think of.

She was able to make out a face; large, round, and flat. Feather tufts protruded from its brow like demonic horns. Between its beaming blood red eyes was a darkly tint beak that was sharp and curved. The rest of its body was too difficult to indicate, its body remained compact and assumed this black, wooly monolith. It looked huge, maybe only slightly smaller than Ray, which hardly helped her nerve.

She did notice what appeared to be a nametag pinned to the straps of suspenders, though she couldn't read out the name at her distance, she had to assume that he...she...it, was an employee. Even with that reasoning, she hesitated to take another step.

"Yes, you are here..."

Kaylynn blinked, taken out of her paralysis the moment the creature spoke, "W-What...?' she managed to retort.

"You said you are here...This is true...and so I say, 'Yes, you are here...'" The avian shadow had a tone that was as soft as the feathers on his body, yet it rattled under a guttural throat whenever he tried to enunciate R and Y. His words were slow, but coherent. It was a voice that _could_ be male, but wondered if she should even worry about that currently.

"Or...maybe 'Here' is your name...? Are you here to greet...or here to be _here_, Here...?"

"Wait, what...? N-No, no!" She could tell the creature wasn't being sarcastic, if it were, she would've had the burning urge to punch him in the beak. However, the way the cryptid spoke did manage to confuse the utter hell out of her, "I-I mean I am _here_ here, but my name isn't 'Here.'"

The creature's owl head rotates perfectly counterclockwise, still staring at her eerily, till it stops half way as he replies, "So you are...here to be _here_, yet you are _not_ here...?"

"No! I mean, YES, but..." She let out an exasperated sigh, any lingering fear was drowned by sheer irritation and boiling annoyance, "Do you want to buy my crap or not!?"

The creature's face spiraled back to it's original position like it was wound on a spring

"Ohhh..." he complied with a breathy tone ending in a subtle rasp, "Why didn't you say so...?"

The woman growled through her nostrils before approaching the counter. It was still difficult to relax under the scarlet glow of his beaming eyes, but she managed to take advantage of her agitation to suppress her fear, and proceeded toward the counter.

She happened to take a second glance at the name tag when she walked closer. Simply read as "Ozzie."

When she had glanced back, she nearly fidgeted when she saw a talon extend out to her, draped in large, night black feathers, leaving the impression of probable wings as well as arms. She hesitated again, staring at the size of "Ozzie's" meat hooks.

"They look even bigger than Ray's" she thought to herself. Already her irritation, that served as a proxy for courage and confidence, started to deteriorate as she was reminded of the terror that loomed over her...

However, Ozzie was hospitable enough to pull her out of her dithering again as he inquired as politely as he could sound under his naturally ghastly disposition, "What...do you have...?"

Kaylynn cleared her throat, wondering for a moment as to why this guy had to talk in such an unsettling manner.

She placed all of her belongings on the counter beside the cash register, displaying them out before the eerie cryptid.

"So, uhm, anything worth much?" she asked, steadily retaining her calm demeanor.

The cashier looked down at the assorted collection of odd things. His gapping red eyes, unblinking and unreadable, inspected over them thoroughly. The first thing that caught his gaze was the box of jewelry. Despite how deadly his hands may have looked, he picked up every earring and bracelet with such precision and delicate care as though he was handling shards of glass. He stared at each piece so intently the subtle sound of purring could be heard from deep in his gullet.

Kaylynn, receiving the impression that Ozzie was becoming distracted, she was about to speak until he suddenly shifted his attention to the metal flute. Just like before with the jewelry, the cheap instrument also basked in the perpetual glow of Ozzie's unflinching gaze. And the pattern continued on to the rest of the items in the following.

With the exception of the gentle purring, it was becoming uncomfortably quiet for Kaylynn, watching this seemingly ominous extraspecies stare and gawk at her belongings like they were sacred treasures. At first, she figured that it was probably just part of his job and was just being efficient, but, something about him that left her feeling...stifled. As much as she tried to preserve her casual surface, she struggled to open her mouth to say, well, anything. Like living the common nightmare where the victim is trapped in a dreadful scenario but their voice is completely shackled; as though something had been lodged in their throat...

However, the uncanny silence was suddenly broken when Kaylynn nearly flinched at the sound of Ozzie's voice, "Are you sure...?"

Kaylynn blinked again, refocusing her attention, managing to find her voice. "A-About what...?"

"This one...?" The cashier dangled his talon down at the stuffed animal, he had already inspected the rest of the items, but it was the worn down elephant toy that made him hesitate.

"Are you sure...about this one...?" he asked once more.

The confused woman glanced at the plushy pachyderm, "...Why do you ask...? Is it worthless..?" she presumed, not too surprised though. She wasn't expecting much for trading that, but at the very least she would have more space with it gone.

"No..." Ozzie retorted, his bleak tone cracking a moment, and sounding almost...sympathetic, "Not worthless..._priceless_."

The curious human scrunched her expression, perplexed by the shift in phrases.

Reading her confusion, Ozzie takes the tiny elephant and holds it gingerly as though it were a living creature, looks down at it, and proceeds to explain, "Of all of them...this one...has the most..."

"What...in value...?" Kaylynn still couldn't comprehend what he was trying to say. How was an old stuffed animal more valuable than anything else she had to offer? Of all the items, she expected the box of jewelry to give her the most buck in her pocket...

The cryptid lets a barely audible sigh escape his narrow nostrils, unintentionally antagonizing Kaylynn again.

"Is he _annoyed_ with me...!?" was the impression she was registering.

Ozzie speaks again, "No...and yes..."

Fear was steadily subsiding by head scratching irritation for young Miss Dorsey

Ozzie, though oblivious to her frustration, did add, "It is most valuable...because it has the most history..." He caresses the musky fur with the blunt of the talon on his thumb, "This fabric...is loose...yet warm..."

Kaylynn's expression only perplexed more, unable to fully grasp most of what he was saying. The fabric being loose, yet there something about warmth involved? What did he mean?

The avian creature continues to speak in a cryptic tongue as his claws, seeming so menacing, continue to graze against the stuffed elephants tender surface, "This pelt...carries a smell...old...yet strong...a smell like yours..."

At first, Kaylynn seemed indifferent against the claim. Was he accusing her of permeating stink? He still didn't seem like he was mocking her in anyway. It was frustrating how vague and unreadable his expression was!

Before she could loose her nerve, she tried to recollect her composure again and tried to stay as calm as possible before she retorted with, "Okay...so what's your point? That thing is old and wasn't taken good care of? Fine, I'll admit that...but can you try to be more clear about what you're trying to say...?"

The glowing, crimson eyes looked directly into Kaylynn's face, piercing through her, purging any irritation or anger from her expression, and leaving only attentive apprehension "No... Old...? Yes... Not cared for...? No..." he then extends the toy out to her, offering it back as he added, "I can see...there is history in this one... Much history... And the history in this...is full of _great_ care..._your_ care..."

Kaylynn was still, not sure what to say. But she felt something inside her sink, as though she had just realized a notion she tried hard to bury. Instead, she found herself reaching for the elephant and holding it in her hands with the same delicacy and care Ozzie displayed.

"Name...?" the cryptid inquires vaguely, arousing a curious glance from her.

"I would think...for something so cherished...you gave it one...?"

Kaylynn, was hesitant to answer, her emotions transitioning and fluxing like a silent vortex. At first she felt only fear, than irritation, and now, she cant decide if she was feeling embarrassed...or guilty.

"T...Tantor..." She managed to mutter reluctantly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Good name..." Ozzie replies without a single hint of sarcasm, "...I like that movie as well..." Everything he had said, every word he spoke, reflected the purest of sincerity and sympathy.

Still feeling somewhat timid, not even bothering to acknowledge the towering owl creature admitting his appeal for Disney pictures, gave him a brief thanks before he went back to his initial question and said, "Are you...still sure...?"

Kaylynn breaths a defeated sigh, too averse to admit she had conceded to her child-hood nostalgia but instead merely retorts, "Just compensate me for the rest of this stuff if you can..."

If Ozzie was smiling, Kaylynn wouldn't be able to notice it. The only indication of expression she could read was a subtle ripple in the cryptid's deep, red stare. When the trading had concluded, Kaylynn took her money, and left without another word.

She found herself standing outside, alone in the parking lot, holding the tattered stuffed elephant in her hands. She felt reluctant. She felt like her maturity had declined because of her inability to simply untether her childish connections...But then, she remembered what that eerie cashier said...how he described this seemingly insignificant toy...

This stuffed animal. This..."Tantor." Has been with her for as long as she could remember. She remembered clenching it tightly in her little arms when she was frightened, and even tighter when she cried. She remembered cuddling with it every night before she slept. She even remembered the innocent melodies she sang to it. Every game she played, every event she participated, every moment of her adolescence; this simple object, that seemed to bare little to no value, was always with her.

"One man's trash...is another's treasure..." that particular phrase echoed again deep in her mind.

"Screw it." She declared out loud, before proceeding to her car, "C'mon, Tan-Tan, lets just go home..."

And she did. With her little treasure in the passenger seat, they drove off.

Meanwhile, back inside the pawnshop. Ozzie had just finished putting away the newly acquired items before noticing something. He glanced back at the cash register, realizing he had forgotten something incredibly important...


	5. Chapter 5: Misunderstandings

Ray, in the seclusion of the living area, sat on the couch before his small, in comparison, laptop, tapping away at the keys with the tips of his claws. For the past six hours he had spent all his time dedicated to career searches, job applications, and the occasional break of watching viral videos online to arouse his amusement from the perpetual boredom that was unemployment. The lingering ache in the pit of stomach did little to adjust his mood either, seeing as how he had agreed with his human roommate to eat more nutrient bars to curve his hungering impulses, while still sustaining some income. Though, even after eating ten in a single evening, for a creature of his appetite, it was hardly what he would call "satisfying". "Barely adequate" was a more accurate conclusion.

When his computer suddenly dispensed a light, but sharp, chime, an indicator popped up from the lower left corner of the screen, opening up to a new message on his email account. The pin name for the digital letter simply read " ." displaying yet another opportunity listing that in no way, shape or form, matched any of Ray's skill criteria.

A soft growl rumbled in his gullet as he stared callously at the pop up and said out loud in stewing frustration, "In what way does _any_ of my working experience qualify me for 'Ballerina instructor'!? I'm not _THAT_ desperate for work...yet." He mentioned under a heavy breath as he proceeded to type away, listening to more online videos in the background. However, his attention was procured by the sudden buzzing of his phone; vibrating in his pant pocket. He pulled it out and read the caller ID before responding. It was the black suit; Jones.

Figuring it was important, he answered the call and greeted him, "What's up, Mr. Jones?"

"Where are you right now?" Jones replied, his voice reverberated with a surprisingly stern tone. Sounding austere even.

Ray, somewhat disarmed by this new tone from the otherwise facetious, calm speaking agent he was more familiar with, answered back curiously, "At the house...job searching. Is something up? You sound...intense."

"Is Ms. Dorsey there with you?" the agent inquired directly, glossing over the last statement.

"Uhm...No...? Not right now anyway. She went out to take care of some errands." When the Jersey Devil noticed the time however, he had just realized that it was later than he previously thought.

Ray's ear twitched to the muffled curse from his phone before the agent continued to reply firmly, "Ray, I'm not suppose to ask this of you, but I need you to go find her. **Now**."

"Wait-what!? Hold on, what's going on, Jones? Is Kaylynn in some kind of danger?"

"Did you receive the alert on your new phone?"

Ray stopped to look at the screen of his mobile device, just as Jones said, there was a message icon. Must have missed it when he was occupied on his personal matters.

The text read thusly...

**EMERGENCY ALERT**

_A county-wide high alert has been issued._

_local law enforcements and M.O.N. units have been deployed and are currently in search of a potentially dangerous fugitive. _

_Citizens are to be advised to stay indoors at this time._

_Fugitive is described as an avian extraspecies, possibly standing at least 7', black feathers, elongated talons, and giant red eyes. _

_If there is a suspect that matches this description is in your area, please call 911 to make your report._

After reading the message, Ray responded back to the agent with heightened worry, "There's a rogue cryptid?!"

"When we investigated the scene where you were assaulted, we found molted feathers left behind by the perp. Forensics found a match; they belong to an Owlman."

Ray paused, the name of the extraspecies stirring his memories, "Wait, I've heard of them. But I dont remember seeing one at the assembly on TV when the act was first established...?"

"They were one of the few liminals we were never able to interview. In other words; we never got a representative from them to sign the Exchange Act Agreement. For the past three years they have always eluded us. However, one of them has shown aggression, openly, and the agency has been issued the task of tracking it down. But I need to make sure you and Ms. Dorsey are safe!"

"Were you not able to get a hold of her?"

"No. My calls aren't getting through, her phone must be off."

Ray no longer hesitated, he hoisted himself from the sofa and rushed over to the key hook as he replied earnestly, "Do you know where I might find her?"

"Her phone signal died near Cordata Way."

"That's not far from here!" Ray made his way to the door, spare key in claw, "But are you sure of what the alert said? Are Owlmen that dangerous?"

"I'll admit, from what little we know about them, they are very unpredictable, but if they are indeed as what their name suggests, then its very likely that were dealing with a potentially deadly predator..."

* * *

Kaylynn frowned at her phone as the screen went to black, shutting down immediately. She could only blame herself for the inconvenience; forgetting to charge her phone over night was a blunder she couldn't deny. She should've been back home sooner, but with the decent amount of money she had received from the pawnshop, thanks mostly to the box of jewelry, she felt she could use a some of it on a few more groceries. She felt the need to keep a constant stock of protein bars for Ray and his troubling metabolism problem, but due to spending more time than she had intended, she had overlooked the late hour until now. Not to mention the Alert notice she received just before her device shut down, she had more than enough motivation to get back home as soon as possible. Unfortunately, another inconvenience reared its poorly conceived head, as she realized that she had no choice but to stop for gas.

She had managed to find a station, not long from her house either. However it was located on a back road near an open forest. The last glow of sunlight was sinking behind the hills, darkening the surroundings. She took no time to dawdle as she made her way to the pump after parking. However, her inconveniences only piled. She knew this filling station was locally owned, but she didn't think to expect that it didn't accept money the same as a Shell or an Arco would. No, _instead_, the pump's display, where there _would_ be a card slide, registry tab, and large button presses for the optional fuel dispensers, was swathe tightly over in layers of duct tape, framing a hand-written sign that simply read "_Pay_ _Inside_".

She rolled her eyes in meager exasperation before proceeding to the cashier inside the convenient store.

However, despite how untimely her circumstances seemed to be, it was actually very fortunate that she decided to do so. For just beyond the other side of the road, a pair of massive, glowing, crimson eyes watched her walk into the store with unblinking fixation. It's bright, beaming gaze pierced through the heavy darkness, that shrouded it's form so compatibly, like a pair of javelins. It made it's advance toward the station until the lighting from the roof of the dispensers suddenly flickered on. The red eyed entity receded back into the shadows, it's vision; blurred and hazed, but only for a moment. The scarlet orbs blinked once, then twice, adjusting it's sight before the second attempt to approach.

Steadily, it rose from the brush again, crossing the rough, still-warm pavement on quiet, stalking steps. The closer it encroached, the more it's ominous red gaze squinted from the glaring roof light. It could still linger, but at the price of being hindered. However, just as he was about to pass the human woman's car, the sound of deep beating rapidly growing louder and louder reached it's auditory senses. Whatever was coming, it was large-larger than itself, and coming down fast.

The form shifted its body backwards just after hearing the sound of hard cloven feet hit the concrete. The black entity was still before what his burning gaze saw; a massive beast in common clothing with jagged horns, claws almost as sharp as it's own, stocky hooves, colossal leathery wings, a feral snout filled with fangs, a long spaded tail, and, staring back at him was some of the most furious golden eyes the entity had ever seen.

"Can I help you with something...?" The beast spoke with a protective glare, surprisingly more literate than the form had expected. But hearing the sound of his tone, left an unsavory impression. The kind it felt that attempts at reasoning would be futile, but, despite how intimidating this creature before it was, it had a task that _must_ be completed. That human woman is vital to it's mission, and it was not about to let a brute such as this one stand in it's way. The entity's form started to widen, the light from the station allowed the beast to see just enough to provide a hint of what shape he saw. At first, he thought they were long and gangly arms, ending in vicious talons that gleamed in the vibrant glow, but as they continued to stretch out, he could pick out large, draping feathers that elongated outward with the form's arms. The entity's wrists made a sharp crack, then pop, as though locking into a position. At that moment the hulking beast was looking at a pair of wings, ready to propel itself right at him.

But, just as the beast was ready to brass for the attack, the entity suddenly shifted its body and rushed around him with shocking agility. It made a mad dash for the store entrance, but the moment it entered directly under the roof lights, it's vision blurred again, struggling to adjust its sensitive eyes-but did not falter in it's step!

Ray was completely caught off by surprise. Jones wasn't kidding, if this was the Owlman, it certainly fit the criteria of being unpredictable, that, and the fact that the moment it entered the light, the creature looked like a giant, sapient bird. But, he was fast as well and quickly outflanked the rogue. He knew that Kaylynn had to have been inside, he recognized her car as he flew here. For whatever reason why this thing was focused on getting in the store, he knew that Kaylynn could get hurt if he let it get inside. Because, though not to Ray's knowledge, the Owlman's semi-blindness couldnt see the Jersey Devil's claw until it suddenly snatch it's shoulder tightly only to realize it was thrown back away from the station. With it's aerial capabilities, the Owlman managed to recover and stick the landing. But, it did not prepare for the following attack as Ray suddenly plowed at the avian liminal with ramming prowess. The Devil tackled the birdfolk and forced it back into the brush. However, he was forced to forfeit his grip to avoid an incoming swipe from the cryptid's deadly talon. Now that it was free and in it's element, the Owlman took full advantage of it's surroundings, and melded into the darkness, red eyes and all.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kaylynn, not even realizing the commotion outside, was too distracted at the sheer annoyance the store clerk was giving her. The clerk was only a year or two younger than herself, yet the service he was displaying for her was so insufferably novice, it was a wonder to Ms. Dorsey how this boy managed to get past high school. An approximately twenty seconds after entering the store, the clerk had managed to succeed in an entire series of amateurish blunders. First he spilled his ICEE beverage on the card scanner, causing it to short circuit and become inoperable. Then, to instead pay in cash, only he had misplaced the key to the cash register because apparently it was an older model. So, before Kaylynn could pay, she had to wait for the incompetent clerk to crawl on the floors until finally finding it, only to then stop everything he was doing and rush over to the hot foods before they could burst into flames. At this rate, Kaylynn was seeing herself getting back home by _at least_ midnight...

* * *

Ray had hoped that perhaps the Owlman had ran, but his powerful nose proved to be by far a stronger tool of observation. The stink of it was everywhere, surrounding him even. His eyes were not as strong as the rogue's, presumably. He had to rely on his other senses. His ears could pick up the subtle sounds of shifting foliage, his nostrils flared with the scent of nearing danger. The Owlman had proven to be unpredictable, yes, but Ray, despite his previous shortcomings, wasn't oafish, nor incompetent...

This was something the rogue would not expect...

The Owlman, came down on him from above, lower talons first. It deliberately permeated it's scent and moving in abnormal patterns to disorient the Devil's focus.

But.

Ray's ear twitched, and turned behind him, hearing the subtle beat of feathery wings dropping down on his head. Without hesitation, he reached his arm upward, and his claw grabbed the Owlman's leg.

Before the birdfolk could be even surprised, it felt it's back smash into the ground, knocking the air out of it's lungs, cognizance dazed, and body aching.

Ray, convinced he had managed to disorient the Owlman, began to interrogate it, "Look, pal, I'm warning you! Leave that girl al-"

But he had lost the will to speak when his eyes were blasted by an overwhelmingly powerful red glare. It was the Owlman. As a final resort, the birdfolk focused it's stare directly into Ray's face. The crimson glow shown as bright and vibrant as headlights, basking the Jersey Devil in an ominous, scarlet radiance. And yet, he wasn't blinded, no, instead, his vision distorted; shapes began to mutate, colors blurred together into sickly shades, even sounds became abnormal noises. Everything that he witnessed was now twisted, demented, obscene. Sweat perspired from his flesh, his powerful heart beat escalated at an alarming rate, his breathing became sporadic. Fear was slowly swallowing him into a perpetual void of paralyzing inducement...

But, this would not stop him.

No!

This will_ NOT_ stop him!

In his moment of anxiety, he was reminded of Kaylynn and how close she was from such a dangerous cryptid. He could not _afford_ to let this optical illusion stop him! In his desperation and perseverance, he summoned his feral impulses, suppressing all of his unwarranted emotions with sheer ferocity alone.

His nostrils snorted.

His muscles tensed.

His gleaming teeth clenched and bare.

His golden, bestial eyes purged all remaining horror and reflected back at the Owlman's stare.

With a vicious snarl, he charged into the source of the madness, putting all his weight into it. His heavy hooves dug and tore into the dirt, his claws outstretched, his horns ready to skewer!

However...

His entire body brushed through the figure like fog, the figment dissipating along with the illuminating light. Before he could stop, or even realize he had been tricked, his face slammed into the thick trunk of a large pine tree, nearly uprooting it upon impact. The collision to his skull left him significantly impaired, his cranium throbbed and dizzied his consciousness. He saw blurred images, but this time it wasn't because of the Owlman's deceptive powers, it was the concussion he inflicted on himself.

The Devil stumbled to his knees, communication from his legs to his brain had been stifled, temporarily. But it was more than enough time for the rogue to resume it's goal. It left the beast as it continued to stumble over itself, approaching the station yet again...

Kaylynn had just returned to her car, finally able to pay the clumsy clerk for the fill-up. When she finished the pump, she was ready to get into the driver's seat until she began possessing the feeling of something standing behind her...

She glanced around, met with a pair of massive beaming red eyes. She felt her heart leap into her throat, her yelp; one octave away from a scream before she noticed the familiarities of that eerie stare.

"O-Ozzie...!?" She then checked for a name tag on him, and indeed found it on the same suspenders he wore earlier today, as they were exposed in the light. She then stopped to realize how odd that was to still be on him at this time of night.

"Uhm...hey!" She greeted, still mildly surprised, "Uhm...wait...are you okay? You look a bit roughed-up..." Her observation was accurate. The jersey devil, though temporarily indisposed, left Ozzie in a tattered state. Patches of black feathers were ruffled and sullied with dirt, the pants of his suspenders were muddied and damp, and meager fatigue invoked him to pant and breath heavily, as if somehow inspiring even more ominosity to envelop his demeanor.

Even his eye's seem dimmer than before. She could almost see pupils.

Exhausting so much of his strength, he could barely speak. Instead, he slowly turned to his right pocket, hidden in the darkness of his draping arms, reaching with his left talon, he began to pull something out.

Kaylynn, already disturbed, was preparing to back away slowly, only to flinch at the sudden, instantaneous movement of his limb. When the young woman blinked, she saw what was held out before her a small, crumbled sheet of paper, printed in digital writing...

"Uhm...is...that a... receipt...?" She inquired, quite befuddled actually.

"Very...important..." Ozzie managed to reply with a very hoarse voice, even more so than usual, "Almost...forgot..."

Kaylynn, internally baffled, decided to simply just take the paper without any further suspicion, "O...OH!...o...Okay then...Uhm...thank you, I guess..." She steadily raised her hand to receive the...unnecessary token.

Then, another surprise came blaring in on the scene, a bit literally in fact. A squad of police cars, howling sirens and flashing blue with red lights, rolled into the gas station and surrounded the two. Two more vehicles followed after; a pair of black armored vans with the acronym "M.O.N." labeled in yellow on their broad sides.

In a matter of moments, a swarm of police officers, and a dozen M.O.N. enforcers had every possible tool of capture conceived by Man pointing directly at Ozzie. Before they fired, a man in a black suit, with comb-backed hair and trimmed goatee, spoke into a loudspeaker and said, "Attention, Avian Liminal! This is the Virginia State Police Department and Monster Operations Neutralization unit! You have been suspected of violating the Extraspecies Exchange Act and of unprovoked assault! Step away from the pedestrian and come quietly or we will apprehend you by-"

"WAIT-WAIT! Wait a MINUTE!" Kaylynn started shouting aggressively, waving her arms about as she stood in front of Ozzie, "What exactly is this guy '_suspected_' of?" She narrowed her eyes at the man in black, instantly recognizing the audacious voice and gel-soaked comb-over, "Jones!? The hell are YOU doing here!? I thought you were just an agent coordinator!?"

The agent nearly chocked from surprise, "Wha...Dorsey!? I could ask the same for you! B-But never mind that, just stay clear of the extraspecies before-"

"Before WHAT? Before he gives me a copy of my receipt!?" She replied sarcastically as she held up the small sheet of paper.

"Wait...What?" Jones, making a face Kaylynn thought she'd never see on him, was now dumbfounded.

His attention was beckoned by the call of a M.O.N. member. Despite being covered head to two in bullet proof body armor, it was clearly an extraspecies; simply observing the hulking size and massive pair of curving horns. The liminal officer was holding someone by the arm over his shoulders, someone of near exact size as the enforcer. It was Ray, barely conscious and still dazed from the head trauma.

"Found him near the bushes, sir." The officer reported, "He has a minor concussion, but other than that he's fine."

The groggy Devil noticed the Owlman standing next to Kaylynn, and tried to struggle with little strength he had as he shouted out weakly, "Hey...! That guy! Dont let'em get near..." He winced to the throbbing in his skull.

Jones, putting the pieces together, still had reason to suspect the current Owlman before them.

Kaylynn noticed Ray as well, suddenly worried, "Wait...Is that Ray!? Ray! What happened, are you okay, big guy!?"

Ozzie twitched at her, "You..._know_...him...?"

Looking more composed again, Jones spoke into his loudspeaker again, "Ms. Dorsey, step away from the Owlman!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

The agent let out an exasperated sigh on the side before speaking into the device again as he explained, "We came here because I tracked Ray's phone. I heard it go off, and it sounded like he was in some kind of struggle..." he then turned to Ozzie as he added, "Do you recognize this extraspecies here? He thinks you are the one who attacked him."

Ozzie was hesitant to answer, he didn't have much expression to denote this, but Kaylynn could hear his unsteady, shallow breathing. He was nervous. Noticing his timid demeanor, Kaylynn, not wanting to suspect him of anything yet, turned to him and spoke slowly, and gently, "Ozzie...what happened...? You didn't hurt my friend...did you...?"

The cryptid paused, hesitant to reply. He didn't expect such extreme ramifications for from such a seemingly simple task. But before he could say anything, a new voice intervened on the scene.

"OI! That's me employee, ye goot theer!" Everyone turned to see an old man, stepping out of an old yellow Studebaker, and trying to break through the line of cops as the officers tried to calm him down. He was an elderly human, most likely reaching his mid seventies, and showing a bit of a pot belly, but looked as mean as a pit bull. He wore a grey, musky flat cap, accommodated by a maroon vest, under a black leather jacket, and a pair of smooth-sewn tan pants with matching brown saddle shoes.

"Employee...?" The agent muttered, too tired to be frustrated anymore. Jones, being the closest, approached the old man, whom was proceeding to swear up a storm of both American and Irish curses.

Later, after things were explained more, the law and M.O.N. enforcers laid down their arms. For the moment anyway.

"Okay, so let me get this all in one more go." Jones began to reinterpret everyone's stories, "Ms. Dorsey was selling odd items to the Owl-er-_Ozzie_ at the pawnshop that you, Mr. McOllif-"

"That's _MacAullife_, ye buggar..."

"Right... anyways, you say that you are the owner of the pawnshop called, 'Pawn Tree'..." The agent blinked before proceeding, "But, according to Ozzie here, Ms. Dorsey forgot her receipt and you tried to go after her..."

The Owlman nodded briskly, "It was...difficult... to find her...My eyes...very vulnerable...in bright places..."

Now that he had mentioned that, Kaylynn did recall the pawnshop being lit rather dimly.

"What about me!?" Ray demanded, holding an ice pack over his cranium, provided by the paramedics, "Why did you attack me!?" he pointed accusingly at Ozzie.

The Owlman turned slowly toward him, expressionless, but small hints of aggression was in his raspy tone, "Not I...**You** attacked me first..."

"Wait, what?"

"**You**...came and tried to stop me...from giving the receipt...to my customer...!"

"I'm not talking about NOW, you..." He let out his frustrations through a powerful snort at the side before continuing, a bit more calmly, "I mean last week! You knocked me out of the sky for no good reason, the hell was that about!?" but only a _bit_.

"Oi, I can expleen thot one, lad." the pawnshop owner interjects, "I don' like admitt'n this, but one of me old insides decided te act up ageen. So, Ozzie heer only did wot he thot be right. He flew tor'ds the neer'st clinic he cood find and left me te be cared fer. But, I'd imogine that ofter no long'r hov'n me te guide his poth, clum'se lad prob'le cood bare'le see weer he was head'n!"

"Okay..well... I can accept that being an accident, but he never stopped to help me out!"

Ozzie replied in turn, "The Pawnshop...is top priority..."

"He means te say he fergot te lock up." The old man clarified for him.

Jones let out another of many sighs he had accumulated over this evening. "So, as I was saying, when Ray encountered Ozzie, he assumed the wrong notion, there was a tussle, Ozzie defended himself by...as Ray described it, some kind of eye illusion, and-"

"Hold on!" Ray interjected as well, "How else could I have assumed otherwise in that situation? This guy was just staring at Kaylynn in the store like some creeper in the shadows!"

"I think that's just how he looks all the time...no offence, Ozzie." Kaylynn mentioned

"None taken..."

"But I DID ask him what he was doing, instead he just ignored me and tried to run for the door!"

"I presumed...you were trying...to fight me...just as you...are now..."

"I'm not trying to start a fight!"

"Not _trying_...but _succeeding._"

"Oh my god, both of you just lock it down already!" Jones shouted, his patience reaching his limit.

"Oi! Ye think yell'n at them some moor is go'n te help?"

"You're one to talk! And I wasn't done with my questions! I still have yet to get an explanation of why you have an unofficial extraspecies race working for you!"

Meanwhile Kaylynn watched as the bickering ensued, enjoying the agent's struggle to maintain his sanity, but otherwise exasperated to watch this ridiculous argument all because of a simple receipt.

"Uhm...miss?" She heard a voice call her out from behind. She turned to see that it was the clerk in the distance as he continued to say, "I...forgot to ask if you wanted your receipt, so do you-"

"Keep it." She said firmly as she pinched her nose, "Just, for the love of god, _just _keep it."

(Edit: A recent reader had noticed a major mistake and thus I corrected it accordingly. If you had noticed a change of names from Jones to James, that was a mistake on my part.)


	6. Chapter 6: The Wrong Attention

"_Welcome back to the News report. Before the break we were just about to talk about the latest reports on the current whereabouts of a missing Extra-species that was part of the Homestay program. An 18 year old liminal called a "Drider", named Kidra, was reported missing after she did not return to her designated house before curfew this last Saturday. Search parties have yet to find the young Ms. Kidra, but MON investigators are continuing their efforts until she is finally found. The Drider's exchange family describes her as a..."_

The news lady on the television screen continued to prattle on more and more about information that was meaningless and trite, or at least, to this one particular viewer. A feminine figure in the conflicted darkness, slim enough to slide through bars and more slender than a standing cobra, resting in her lounge chair made of fine upholstery. A fabric that flattered the oily smooth skin, comforting her elegantly posed posture as the figure continued to watch the 72-inch screen that practically illuminated the room. She had hardly any interest, nor sympathy for the wellbeing of a missing cryptid, yet despite the callous demeanor, she continued to watch the channel, though still a tad apathetically, by other motivations. Every time the acronymic word "MON" and anything that was affiliated be mentioned, a toxic smirk would crawl across her face, even sometimes accompanied with a scoffing giggle, or even a laugh. Though, those moments of otherwise positive, be it corrupted, emotions that would manage to find their way to the surface would only be dragged back down immediately under a cold, calculating, and predatorily face. In one hand, a single wine glass held up daintily between two needle sharp fingers, only, it wasn't actually filled with wine, or any other kind of alcohol for that matter, but instead creamy white milk. And in between every two or three sentences of the news reporter's scripted lines would she take a sip, or rather a lapping. However, in the midst of her relaxation while watching and mocking at MON's expense, as her tongue hit the surface of her beverage, her ear twitched at the next line the Newswoman stated.

"_A new Extra-species has been identified and is currently in process of becoming a citizen..."_

Her eyes, before bore round and deep pupils, suddenly sharpened with hungry investment. Her poise remained unhinged, but now she stared at the television with unblinking interest. The figure turned her slender arm away from her and set aside the glass as she proceeded to listen with a new found attention.

"_According to MON representatives, the new liminal was discovered in Virginia and has been identified as one of America's most popular myths-_"

"_The Mothman, Jess_?" a man that sat next to the newswoman as his co-anchor presumed curiously.

The Newslady cracked a chuckle before replying, "_No, actually, Ross! Ironically enough, the extra-species is in fact the spin-off version known as the __**Owl**__man_."

"_You're kidding!" _Ross seemed genuinely surprised.

"_I'm serious! Just this morning it was made public by the officials that the Owlman is indeed real and we've been assured completely that he is harmless..."_

With a single button press, the screen's visuals paused in place. The figure, still roughly hidden in the bleakness that shrouded the room, rose from the furniture as she mused with a purring leer, and said, "I'll be the judge of that..."

It was a voice that was cool, elegant, intelligent. But like a sweet fruit on the verge of rotting, there was a hint of foulness that seeped from her words like venom from a spider's fangs. Her voice suddenly mutated into a more obscene tone as she instantly barked out with painful serration, "WART!"

If she had expected a response, she received none except the following silence. A twitch of irritation tickled her ear. She decided to yelp the word again, producing an even sicker shriek than before, "WART!"

Still no acknowledgment.

Her patience, though seemed abundant at first, was wilting at an impressive speed. The initial growl, sounding more like a toy motor, was soon followed by a sequence of incoherent mumblings and grumblings as she stomped her way toward the door that exited out of her private quarters.

As she slammed the door behind her, she was now in a luxuriously designed hallway, and in far brighter lighting. Now exposed from out of the darkness, her appearance became more clear. She was a Liminal herself. Baring physical traits, if some of her described habits before weren't obvious enough, of the feline variety. She was anthropomorphic, and quite highly developed. Her frame was that of what many human women dream of having, but with a few...undesirable qualities. Make no mistake, there are many young ladies out there whom, on more than one occasion, fantasized of a long, lean feline tail accommodated with a pair of thin cat ears, perhaps a pair of slender hind legs ending in petite paws instead of human feet, there are even those that would rather have the entire cat face as well. Of course, when women like that enjoy such imaginations, they would like to think of themselves more like a Turkish Angora, or a Shorthair, or maybe, if they're feeling a little adventurous, something exotic like a Bengal. Very few, an _extremely_ small few, would fantasize being a Sphynx.

No, not the one that inspired the ancient statue of Egyptian heritage. That would've been a far more appealing coincidence. This Felis catussapien, or what her ancestors were referred to as the "Bastets", is of an unfortunate hairless breed.

And though her body's proportions still believe it is 1950, her complexion would not agree. If she were in her prime as a humanoid sphynx, she probably would've only had four lines instead of ten. And perhaps her skin tone would've been a more pinkish beige instead of a withering pale shade. Even the obscenely apparent veins that swelled on her bony hands from her rising blood pressure would have been invisible if applied enough make-up, twenty years ago. But she certainly applied cover regardless. In fact, as attires and the dedication of appearances go, she was more than what was necessary...or desired. Thick mascara drenched her eyelashes, which were almost as long as the whiskers that twitched on her short muzzle. Her eyeliner was even more obnoxious, where she apparently thought a vibrant turquoise would liven her skin texture. Choice of nail polish for her hybrid finger-claws was also a questionable color of gleaming violet. Then there is the overcompensation of jewelry; gilded hand bracelets, sparkling necklace, needlessly large earrings, etcetera. All to accommodate a highly tailored scarlet dress gown with drapes that dragged so far behind her it is a mystery how she manages to not get it caught on anything.

Despite her best efforts to hide her worst qualities, it only seemed to clash, creating a creature that, though would've been the epitome of liminal beauty had it been a century ago, instead looks like a decorated corpse that just sprung to life and escaped its display case. But being a victim of her own ego, naturally, she'd be oblivious to this, and telling her otherwise might lead to unfortunate consequences.

Similar consequences that might befall on whomever wasn't responding to her call.

But, she soon was beginning to understand what the obstruction was, as her gifted hearing started picking up the growing sound of lyrical music that drowned in a more apparent noise. At first, she thought it was screaming, or perhaps wailing, but no, what she was hearing was in fact singing. Or for whatever passed as singing when its being vomited out of the mouth of a troll. And that was no exaggeration either.

When the bastet found the source of the noise, she discovered a fellow extra-species in the main kitchen of her extravagant abode; a troll in a chef's uniform. This troll, however, was on her employment, though she had contemplated many times, including now, why and how she came to that decision. Wart, as his mistress calls him, is the assigned head chef, as his garments would suggest, the reason she hired him was for his incredible skills in crafting fine cuisine, that as well as performing well at random odd jobs that his employer may assign him to at random. Head Chef is just his official title for the other servants to address him by, in actuality, he was more of a personal butler. However, this mistress never prepared herself with all the many, many quirks that added as an extra compensation for his services. Starting with his disgustingly high moral of charity and generosity. Just with but a single glance at the area, the entire kitchen was empty, not a single cook aside from Wart was present, most likely because the troll let them turn in early. He would always do such things like this to undermine his mistress's authority, and he would always have some kind of excuse for doing so. It wasn't so much as he was being clever in doing so, but rather, he was just sincere that way. Then there was the time he tried to start "crochet night" then he tried to schedule a weekly movie marathon of classic romance/comedy flicks, which she found all putrid, and she would not dare try to remember last December when he dressed up as that pagan clown the humans call "Santa Clause".

If she had to describe him in one word, it would be a revolting word that would sour her tongue like a raw lemon, she would call him _nice_.

The troll was a large, obese fellow, easily dwarfing the nimble little anthro-cat. While she was fairly average height herself, Wart was a whopping 11'2 feet of sheer mass. The whole kitchen, as well as most of the estate, had to be refurbished just to accommodate his size alone. Wart had skin as gray as stone, and was probably just as sturdy. His face was round, and wide, and even wider when he'd stretch out his toothy smile. His ears were like pancakes; floppy, but with a bit of fluff. Under his thick eyebrows that poofed like giant fuzzy caterpillars were a pair of large eyes that were filled with wonder and deep maple charm. His nose was what he considered one of his best facial features as it is large, thick, and lumpy, much like a potato. His legs were thick as well, stumpy like tree trunks, and his arms were like boulders that just happened to have joints and articulate, plump fingers. If he wanted to grind her into a stale colored paste with a single strike of his meaty fist, he could have done so with ease, probably could have sat on her by mistake and it would still carry the same results. But Wart was not like other trolls, most trolls would not have given this annoying, easily agitated, wrinkly old cat-wretch a first, second, or even a third thought. If a fourth, _then_ they might have smashed her, followed by scraping what was left off from beneath their fat foot. No, Wart was definitely different. Wart was a _Swedish _troll, a _jolly_ Swedish troll.

Oblivious to his employer's presence, he continued to chant and croon with the graceful tone of a howling elephant seal. Scrubbing the last of the pots for the night with whimsical enthusiasm to the rhythmic flow of the radio's music channel. Tonight's choice of composition was an extended version of Fedora by Umberto Giordano. However, just as he was about to reach the climatic high note, the music was merciless silenced with brutally swift execution. The troll chef, initially confused and upset, turns to his radio to find that the culprit responsible for ruining his finish was none other than his glaring boss. He frowned at the bastet with innocent distress and then proceeded to gripe, "Miztriss! I was joost ebout to git to ze goot pert!" His accent was undeniably thick, but believe it or not, his English had actually _improved,_ phenomenally, during the few years under her employment.

"I don't pay you to wail like a blubbering drunkard, you dung-nosed behemoth!" she spat back cruelly, an attitude that bounced off Wart's emotional integrity quite harmlessly.

The troll responded benevolently, "Now Miztriss, remimber zat talk we hod aboot yoor timper~?"

"Shut-up, WART! I need you to contact Mold, we have a job to do."

The troll let out a shocking gasp, nearly dropping the pot he just finished washing. "Theer is anotheer unpleesint liminal alridy? We joost coot one ricintly!"

The crooked antho-cat made an even more crooked leer, baring her gleaming little fangs, "Ah, but there is not just another, but an entirely _new_ liminal. And he is very 'unpleasant'. So make the preparations!"

"Oh! Utmärkt! I'll be soor te pack all ze nicessiteez fer ze trip... Wheer woot we be go'ng, Miztriss?" He asked curiously as the feline walked away.

She then stopped to glance back at him, her pupils still sharp as her nails, "We're going to one of the most horrendous places in the world; America!"

The troll bobs his head in understanding only to stop himself and say, "Eh, ze South one?"

She rolls her eyes with a disgruntle sigh, "No, no! The _other_ horrendous one-the North one!"

"Ah, you shoot probibly be moor cleer nixt time. Frindly tip~!" The ending phrase was a common line he would often say to his employer, and he would always add an encouraging smile to it as though he were on a motivational poster.

Leaving the mistress to continue her exit out with the usual stagnate, irritated glower of perpetual grimace that would last through out the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7: Current Events

The air, becoming colder with each passing day, bristled with the sound of the late morning traffic, and vibrantly brown leaves scurried and danced across the pavement in the subtle breeze. A sure sign that Autumn had finally come, and very soon the festivities that would celebrate the season's yearly arrival would follow. But the coordinator, Agent Jones, had a more present situation to deal with. He had to figure out a way to stop an angry pair of Irish old eyes glaring daggers at his face.

"Mr. MacAullife, for the last time, what we did was for you and Ozzie's benefit." The agent persisted with a faint hint of exasperation before taking another sip of his coffee. And though he chose his beverage made black, it was no where near as bitter as the old broker's responsive tone.

"I fail te see hoo be'n taken in te custody against oor will is in anyway a _benifit_." The Irishmen growled with a simmering frown that would make a kobold shudder, which he had on more than one occasion.

The two were sitting face to face at a small lounging table just outside of one of the many local coffee shops in the downtown area. Jones was in his usual suit, while the broker also wore similar clothes the last time they met, only this time a walking cane was in his company, and it had the metallic head of an eagle that almost seemed to mimic the owner's grimace expression. It tested the agent's resolve, but he managed to convince the cranky senior to meet him publicly to clear up any...misunderstandings. It had been only five minutes and already it felt impossible to get through the stubborn goat.

He set his cup down before retorting, with _more_ pleasantry this time, "We had to only because, lets be honest, you were _technically_ harboring an illegal immigrant."

"'Immigrant?' Ha! As if ye kno' weer te lad's kin actually came froom!"

"Regardless, he still wasn't a legal citizen of the United States until now."

The old man paused, glancing down at the glass surface of the table with an obstinate expression. He then looked back at the black suit before trading back with, "So wot? He had'n been caus'n any trouble b'fore te fact! Jus' take a look aroond ye, lad..." He gestured with his left, wrinkly hand out to the scenery before them.

Along the sidewalks and crossways, both humans and liminals, of all shapes and sizes, walked and strolled passed or together with one another just as any other common day. No screams of horror, no violent outbreaks, not a single sign of hostility even from the most dangerous looking of individuals. Everything was calm and tranquil as it was hoped to be.

"Centoors, Meermaidens, all these fantasy creetures...Theer ah already so many fer te world te enjoy, would they really care fer one moor?"

There was a moment of silence between the two gentlemen. Agent Jones gave himself a moment to reconcile his next reply. He let a soft breath smoothly escape out his nostrils, then set down his cup, then removed his shades solemnly, allowing his staid expression to be emphasize by the cold stone-gray irises in his firm eyes, "Mr. MacAullife, I need to be absolutely straight with you about something."

The stern complexion in the agent's expression made the old broker more attentive. He was no where near intimidated by this display of assertiveness, mind you, however, it was enough to make him curious. After all, coming from an individual that seems _born_ with such a harsh demeanor, it only made sense that he would acknowledge it from another.

Jones proceeded, "While you and your employee were held in custody for due processing, I went to investigate your home."

The Irishmen's grip on his cane clutched even tighter as his face suddenly contorted into an even more frightening scowl.

But before he could start howling his mad symphony of curses, Jones quickly added with his composure still retaining, "Which I was _authorized _to do. Seeing as how you were adamant to explain to us _why_ an unregistered extraspecies was under your employment." this seemed to stay the Irishmen's anger from festering further, even if it were a moment. "When I searched your house for any kind of hint, I ended up finding much more than that..." he stopped to take another sip of his coffee to wet his throat before proceeding to say, "I found a particular picture in your storage that suggested something very strongly about your affiliation with Ozzie, Mr. MacAullife." He set his cup back down and put his hands together in a more formal matter. "Your business records may state that he was under your employment for three years, but we both know that he has been under your care much longer than that, _much_ longer."

With all the unbridled rage that was building up by every word that slunk out of this black suit bastard's mouth, only seemed to recede and deflate as all the red in his face drained away. He let out a defeated sigh as the tension in his old muscles relaxed, though sounded more like a disgruntle rasp, as he cursed something in his native tongue under his breath. "Aye...dat old lass of a wife e'mine. She always did love tak'n pictures of me an' him when he was but a wee one...even if it was a bad idear. If only she were here noo to tell her I told ye so..."

Jones inserted himself before the old man started reminiscing too far from his attention. "I know you're only trying to protect him, as any good guardian should, and it's not like he is gone from your life completely, he is still allowed to work at your pawnshop. But I can assure you, no harm will ever come to Ozzie. The new place we established him at guarantees a safe and friendly environment for him to adjust easier into society."

The broker made an expression that was almost identifiable as smirking before retorting, "Is dat right?" He seemed less than convinced, or rather, had a tone that suggested he _wanted_ to be convinced of that statement, "Ye nev'r were clear on dat one specific detail. Where did ye send me lad to?"

The agent made his own smile as he took another sip.

Meanwhile, at the house, Ray was sitting in his usual spot, clicking and tapping away at his laptop following the repeated routine of job hunting online. Least that is what he is _trying_ to do if it weren't for a certain avian nuisance not grasping the simple concept of **personal space**.

"You misspelled 'guaranteed'." The Owlman pointed out, crouching over from the side of the table as his massively ocular red eyes challenged the light illuminating from the monitor screen.

"Yes, Ozzie. That's what **spellcheck** is for." Ray retorted, clenching his teeth to suppress his stress levels from getting any higher, "And for the _tenth_ time-GO AWAY."

"I cannot...higher authorities... tell me this place...is my new home...can't leave...until tomorrow morning...That is my next shift..."

"That's not what I...!" He almost let out a growl before stopping himself, and muffling it down to a sharp snort, "Wait...why morning? Aren't you suppose to be nocturnal?"

"Yes."

"Well, aren't you tired right now? It's like almost noon, and you've been awake hovering over me and my laptop **all morning**!"

"No...Not tired."

"Then which is it!? Are you nocturnal or not?"

"I can be awake at night...and in the day."

The devil lets out an exhausted groan, "Then _when_ can you sleep?! You have to get tired _sometime_!"

"...I sleep...when I feel like it."

"OH MY GOD!" Ray shouts, loosing the last of his patience as he rises from the couch to address at Ozzie directly as he adds, "I **swear**! You are doing that on purpose!"

The Owlman, despite the sudden aggression in tone and demeanor, seemed unfazed by Ray's temper, only slightly confused, or at least that is the closest expression that could be translated by how the bird-folk started to rotate his face like a turning knob. He then responds in his usual soft, but raspy voice, "Doing...what...on purpose...?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean! That whole...vague and evasive tone you use when you talk. It's killing my **sanity...**!"

There was a moment of awkward silence, the two liminals stared, one with anguish at the other, while...actually, the Owlman changed his attention back to the laptop rather leisurely as though Ray's frustrations brushed over him like a passing breeze.

"Don't touch it!" The devil scolded firmly, spotting him reaching for his computer. However, after a brief flash of crimson blindness, Ray found himself standing in the living room, completely alone, and, to his dismay, his only resource to county wide job searching was suddenly missing.

The realization sunk in quicker than a stone in water, "Did he just...", his face, usually maroon, became redder than the hottest son, and then growled with exhausted tolerance, "That little feathered SHI..."

As for our young Ms. Dorsey, however, her day at the Merry Sip Café was proving to be a much more subtle experience. She had just entered her shift not long ago, but it seemed the shop's business was at it's usual pace; wasn't too rushed, wasn't too slow, no, there was just enough breathing space between customers to allow herself momentary breaks and small conversation between her co-workers.

They were only a few, being it a small establishment, but she had socialized with all them in the two years since she was hired as a cashier.

The thinly tall young man with curly blond hair was Sean, and he was one of two of the baristas. He was only a year younger than Kaylynn, but he gave off a powerful older sibling type of aura that was more inviting than intimidating. And every once in a while, when she least expected it, Sean would mutter a joke under his breath behind her and say some terrible pun that would make the young woman's face curdle with revulsion, and he'd relish her disgusted reactions every time. But at heart, he had admitted to her and the other employees how he aspires to be a dentist for children, but be as silly as he possibly can to quell their fear. He had been working in this café as long as Kaylynn, but his attitude has never subsided, even on the most stressful of days.

Helen, a bright, but quiet young lady of darker pigments that kept her inky black hair in a long braid, was the second and other barista, and she seemed to have a talent in brewing hot or cold beverages. A small smile would creep across her left cheek when ever a ludicrous order would come up, such as a tall mocha latte with soy and drizzled caramel, or a no-foam vanilla venti with triple chaco sauce, or even something as ridiculous as a grande triple frappuccino on ice mixed with extra wip and non-fat soy with an added topping of crumbled nuts. She never says it, but it was clear for the rest of everyone working with her that she enjoyed making the odd orders simply because of the challenge it provided, and Sean would give her the reins on those orders with out a moments hesitation.

The other two co-workers were also the co-owners of the café, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. However, their last name hardly reflected their capacity for harshness. Sometimes strict, sometimes even a little firm, but never harsh, or crude, or even blunt. They treated their employees like they were their own children, even as far as giving them little nicknames, all of which were conceived by the self-amusing Mr. Marshall. Often he would call Sean "Jester" due to noticing the many clever puns and quips he'd mention to get a reaction out of Kaylynn. Helen would be called "Perky", especially when she was needed for a complicated order. As for Kaylynn, sometimes she would be called "Chip", short for "chipmunk", but why? Because while Kaylynn was a relatively average sized human, Mr. Marshall was almost as big as a centaur, in fact, there was a pair of ogres that almost mistook him for their _midget_ uncle on one occasion. So in comparison with everyone in size, Kaylynn was, actually she was the second smallest, only an inch or two taller than Helen, but she already got _her_ nickname, so Chip it was for Ms. Dorsey!

But while Mr. Marshall would come to assist the baristas whenever there was a rush, or help sort everything in inventory, or even clean the dishes, it was Mrs. Marshall that handled all the management work. She was the one that sorted all the paperwork, all the interviews, all the records, all the transactions and bills, and everything and anything that was written in black ink. Without her, no doubt, the café would have fallen to ruin far before the spike in customers after the announcement of the exchange act. She was just a few years younger than her husband, but, despite her ageing body, she had a persona to her that glowed like the morning sun; warm, vibrant, and still full of whimsical delight. Mr. Marshall, while being as large as he was, with a plump stomach and surprisingly firm arms incorporated, his fuzzy amber mustache and balding cranium made him look like a ginger Doctor Phil, but instead of speaking as though he were from the southern states, he retained a New York city accent whenever he spoke. Mrs. Marshall, or just "Boss" as she is humbly received as, her hair was starting to fade from a maple brown to a paler shade, often tied up in a bun, feeling self conscious that it may look too ratty for her liking now. But no one ever really minded that, especially since she was spending most of her time in the small office crammed in the back of the shop every work day.

To summarize, Kaylynn would think of her working environment to be nostalgic. It wasn't that much different from her life back when she had lived with her family. Even the café itself could be described as "homey." However, not to her initial knowledge, her staff was about to expand by one more.

"Yo, you all gotta secant?" Mr. Marshall beckoned everyone from their stations. He had just returned from the back after talking with his wife.

Kaylynn, Sean, and Helen, like a military unit, assembled and stood to his attention. Usually they are more leisure when he calls them, but that was only on occasions when they were called individually. When he wanted everyone's attention at once, they knew it was important.

"What's up, Gary?" Sean spoke out first, addressing Mr. Marshall by his first name.

"I almost fergot to give ye guys a bit of a heads up. In about an hour, the Misses is gonna have a possible newbie com'n in t'day fer an interview."

"Oh, okay then." Helen replied, though seemed a little perplexed, "But why do we need to be informed of that? Is it someone special?"

"Ye might say that." Mr. Marshall retorted sensitively, "She's an Extra-species. Ya know, one' dem...uhh, what doesn't sound racist..? People we thought was monstas but aint actually monstas?"

The loyal employees did all they could in their power to not snicker at their senior. Then Sean admits half-heartedly, "Sorry, man, but that still sounds kinda racist."

But he was easily forgiven, mostly because there weren't any Liminal customers currently present, though, it would be debatable if they would be offended if there were. Mr Marshall proceeded to explain, "So as I was say'n, I mention this, cuz I want ye guys to be as respectful as possible. Not that I'm say'n you aren't in general, but ye know, still kinda a big deal for us right now. Anyways, me and Sandy have decided to get a second cash register, see'n as how we've been getting a more steady flow of customers this year-They're really dig'n them drinks ye make, Perky!", he compliments to Helen for a moment, making her crack her signature grin, only this time it was colored in a shade of red. "Anyways, that means we'll have to get a new cashier soon as well, which means the ball is in your court on that one, Chip." He points at Kaylynn, winking at her as a sign of his confidence in her.

Kaylynn, despite already sharing a house with two extra-species at the moment, she still felt somewhat surprised at the revelation. She was now going to be not only working with a Liminal, but she'll be tutoring her.

"So...is she cute?" Sean, demonstrating once again at his lack of tact.

"Easy there, tiger, you haven' even met'a yet." Mr. Marshall glanced at the young man with a parental smirk.

That also struck her with a bit of curiosity as well, granted she familiarized herself with Talisha, the Lamia JCPenny employee, even bonded with her a little during and after the incident with Ray's wardrobe crisis. However, she had no idea what to expect from this new liminal, what kind she was, what her heritage might be, not sure what would be insensitive to her or not. She has spent time living with Liminals, now she had to prepare herself to _work_ with one, which, in all honesty, is an entirely different aspect.

Unfortunately, it would appear that she would not have enough time to practice a proper first impression. Because almost immediately after receiving the news, the tiny bell that was fixed near the top of the door wrung violently as it was swung open, followed by an anxious voice as it said, "I'm so sorry for running late! Is my interview canceled?"

Everyone instantly turned, even a few other customers that had been relaxing in the lounge area perked up to the sudden scene. Standing in shuffled clothes that were clearly slapped on in a rushed matter was a female Liminal. At first, she was almost mistaken for a demon or even one of those categorized "Devil" extraspecies only she was much taller and more developed in appearance. Reminding Kaylynn a little bit of Ray, she too had large leathery wings, but not as broad or wide as a Jersey Devil's yet still looked powerful enough for flight. Her legs, though currently worn a little from running, were jointed and ended in bare feet that resembled closely to reptiles', or even of a dragon's. She had a long, thin, flexible tail that twitched and coiled in quiet agitation. Her highly articulate, slim fingers ended in distinguishable claws that were small, stubby, but definitely fined with care. Skin that could be seen was a shade of deep gray, like wet granite after a long down pour. If she were to stand still instead of panting from exhaustion, she may have been fooled for a statue in rolled up faded jeans, and a brown leather jacket. Even the freckles that patterned across her face could have been added texture to stone surface. But the color of her eyes and hair were in enough vibrancy to break the illusion. Her hair was in long locks of frilly strands that gleamed of a fiery shade of orange. She was a ginger like Mr. Marshall, but his colors had been left less distinguished over the years compared to the newcomer. As for her eyes, they stood out even more, like a pair of emeralds, they glowed in potent pools of green. She possesed a face that was arguably the most human aspect of her anatomy; well rounded cheeks, a distinguishable sapien nose, thin eyebrows, and the only abnormalities to be compared were slightly longer, pointed ears and notable canines.

Kaylynn, and the other two baristas were caught off guard, they had already envisioned dozens of possible extaspecies that they were expecting to be their new co-worker, but none of them anticipated that one such as this one existed as well. In fact, they were under the impression that creatures like her were only real on the ledges of church buildings, old castles, or skyscrapers.

The only person before her that approached, was Mr. Marshall, who seemed to presume whom she was straight away. He greeted her in as customary as a Newyorker can be and said, "Yer actually an hour early, miss. You the kid that was scheduled for an interview?" now that the two were standing closer to compare better, the newcomer was just as big as Mr. Marshall, if not a few more inches over.

The confused Liminal blinked, "Wait, I'm _early_? My watch says it's..." She slapped herself on the forehead, hiding an embarrassed smile, "Ugh! I forgot it was Day Lights Savings!"

The co-owner let out a friendly chuckle, "Don't worry 'bout it, it's better than be'n late right? So you are...?"

"Oh, I'm a Gargoyle."

"Oh, is that right-Wait, sorry, that aint what I meant to ask! What's ye name, kid?"

"Oooh, my bad. My name is Sam; Samantha Coldgate."


	8. Chapter 8: Best intentions

Originally, his intentions were entirely pure. Ozzie had watched Ray's tireless attempts to these "applications", watching him fill one out again and again, seeing one draft be slightly altered only to be edited again after spotting the same errors over and over. Ray had told him that this "spell-check" would help him with any mistakes he might make, but to look at so many red and green lines was...agitating. He simply had to do something. Not just for his own reasons but, he could also recognize the all too obvious stress and desperation in the jersey devil's gilded eyes; how they wavered with doubt and worry. Ozzie was taught on strong, good morals. Even if Ray did not _wish_ it, Ozzie would give him the help he so greatly _needed_. However, living a sheltered life, he did not possess much knowledge of what the common person would. The most he could learn was through books and old video cassettes. Naturally, his adopted parents did all they could to house school given the circumstances of public opinion back then. But by the time they found Ozzie, Mister and Misses MaCauliffe were already fairly elderly, thus it was difficult for them to keep up with the constant changes and advancements in technology, communication devices, social media, so as a hatchling, the closest experiences he ever had was Mr. Macauliffe's Macintosh computer that was first manufactured in the early nineties. And even then, his privileges to that were scarcely limited.

But now...

Now he had before him a computer device that far surpassed what his human parent owned. So many gigabytes of data, so much memory space, so much viral information and internet access on such a tiny piece of software. It was almost overwhelming at first, alluring even. He wasn't sure how to start.

Suddenly, a loud banging clenched his attention to the floorboard near his appointed bed. It was actually the trapdoor that was receiving quite a harsh pounding, for you see, Ozzie, when he had been made a candidate for the program, he was provided a temporary living space with included comforts in the addict of the house. He had yet to retrieve the rest of his belongings, but it was decided to only take the necessities till a proper room could be installed in the house. The young owlman didn't seem to mind it all that much, though.

But back to the issue at hand.

Ozzie was not shaken by the thunderous beating, for he had expected that the brutish devil would react this way.

"OZZIE!" Ray's muffled voice tore through the floor service, "**Give. It. Back.**"

But the red-eyed avian would comply _after_ he was done. Ray, under different circumstances would have easily ripped his way through the hard wood flooring without a single drop sweat. But prepared to pay for property damages-_that_ was a situation he dare not venture. All he could do was shout and curse, and in someway convince the damn bird to return his property. He even resorted to calling agent Jones for assistance, despite knowing how ridiculous this request would sound. However, as his luck would have it, Jones was apparently preoccupied, or so his answering machine had told him. So it was back to the initial plan of banging and shouting till something would happen. But Ozzie, he had grown up with the _Irishman_, and he had learned to know when to shut out such noises if he wanted to remain focused. He had set the laptop on a small wardrobe near his bed mattress, his gaping crimson eyes scanned the digital pages as he absorbed the entire document word for word, error for error. It was more than just grammar and misspellings that were the problem, the entire resume draft was just, it took him a moment to think of the most accurate description but decided to simply label it as "dull". It lacked punctuation, expression, passion, a sense of worth, it was too rushed, too factual. Of course, this was Ozzie looking at an application resume as though it were a manuscript for a novel. Never the less, that was how he would approach this problem before him. At first it proved difficult to type the keys, even with his massive black feathers folded to better give his talon hands better articulate freedom across the tiny board of buttons. But, he managed quickly under his limitations. He continued his assessment by comparing notes contained in the laptops monitor. Navigating the windows Ray had left opened, he learned what the devil was applying for; a deli clerk for a small grocery store not too far from the house. He then read Ray's resume again to find key skills and attributes that would deem him qualified, and it would seem the only previous working experience he had was being a bar tender. Not a problem, that fit the criteria of concessions. That was a good start. The rest was simply a matter of...embroidery. As mentioned before, Ozzie had spent most of his hatchling life reading books, and he read _very_ intently.

Hearing the subtle sound of tapping keys, a sense of dread crawled up Ray's long, bulky spine. "Ozzie? You better not be mess'n with my crap!?"

The owlman proceeded to ignore him.

Even though he had never needed to make a resume before, he knew how to make anything sound interesting or intriguing, so, perhaps, Ray's issue may have not been his presented lack of experience, but rather, he needed to make himself seem _extraordinary. _Was Ozzie completely sure that this would be enough? Of course not, but he believed it might help ease Ray's search for employment.

"I will literally _pay_ you _MONEY_, if you give me back my computer, right now...!"

Ozzie made a tiny guttural noise deep in his throat-almost like a soft chuckle. Ozzie works as a broker assistant, as if _bribing_ would sway his conviction! 

He proceeded to complete the application, insert the contacting information that waslisted in the resume draft, and clicked send. He was preparing to return the computer after a successful editing sweep, but the window suddenly switched to a new one with a completely different format. It was an advertisement for a college degree course, of course Ozzie would not be interested himself, but before he dismissed the ad, he thought perhaps it would also be beneficial for Ray to have the opportunity to further extend his education, in fact, it would show poor support for his roommate if he didn't apply Ray's information to that as well. So he did just that, and was now ready to give it back to the snarling jersey devil below, _but then_, he couldnt help but notice a banner at the lower left screen, it looked like another add for something similar. It mentioned surveys, and payment for said surveys; a job that could be pay you in the comfort and safety of your own home?

Fascinating!

Ray could definitely profit from that as well. Upon opening that window, had another opportunity, then another, then another. There were so many offers and opportunities, he could not understand why Ray was unable to find a single paying occupation by himself...Then _it_ opened. a single column of thick, capitalized text in front of a neon blue background, with the beginning word spelled out the largest as "WARNING" followed by several exclamation points. He didn't try to read the rest, because before he could, a blaring female voiced shouted directly at him saying, "STOP! THERE IS A VIRUS IN YOUR SYSTEM! PLEASE DO NOT-"

He didn't have time to listen to the rest of what the lady inside the computer had to say, because after hearing the sharp, sudden, and single crunch of a large, red, clenched punching through solid wood, his attention was all too easily taken. Though Ozzie had a face that seemed expressionless, the scarlet luminescence in his eyes suddenly fading from his irises, and the pointed tufts on his brow suddenly perked directly toward the bent ceiling, was all to clear that he had indeed realized, in that moment- that last calm breath before the storm- he had made a _terrible_ mistake...


	9. Chapter 9: Not made of Stone

Kaylynn had just finished wrapping up on her shift. With a bit of daylight still burning in the sky, about two o'clock in the afternoon to be precise. She bid her co-workers fair well for the evening before setting off to her car, another day to be marked as a casual one. Even with the new arrival of a young she-gargoyle to become a potential employee, Kaylynn, at this point in her life, considered it fairly normal. She even got to greet Miss Coldgate before her interview and managed to say her goodbyes after it was over. Even if it was brief, Sam seemed, as if it were a shock at this point, like a very decent person. There was a certain flare in her shimmering green eyes, her charismatic output made her approachable, even more so then Ray or Ozzie, but then again, after associating with two very...intimidating looking individuals, the parts of them that seemed frightened had possibly glossed over her at this point. That notion made her feel a little more confident in herself, before meeting Ray, she had wondered if she'd be too insensitive to such a racial topic. Bigotry was never an aspect of her core personality, but she always had been self-conscious regardless. Never the less, she looked forward to seeing the gargoyle again, she did admit to herself that it would be nice to have a second pair of hands-or-_claws, _to help her with cashiering, especially with winter drawing near, there would be a higher demand for steamy hot beverages.

Then, just before unlocking her car door, something caught the corner of her eye. It would seem Miss Dorsey would get her wish sooner than expected, for just across the street, a few meters down from where she was parked, Samantha was sitting on a wooden bench next to a bus stop sign. Kaylynn thought that to be odd. Sam had left the café at least an hour before her shift had ended, and, seeing as how she traveled by bus before owning a vehicle of her own, she was familiar with the pick up schedules. She should have been gone by now, what else was she waiting on?

Both out of curiosity and concern, she decided to walk over and greet herself again. However, as she got closer, the more she started to recognize a dishearten expression on her freckly gray face. As though, the light that sparkled in her eye from earlier today had suddenly diminished. Sam hadn't noticed her yet, she looked as though she was staring blankly at the road, lost in thought. Whatever thoughts she was swimming in, none of it seemed to brighten her complexion.

"Hey...Sam, right?" Kaylynn said, gently loosening the gargoyle out of her trance. She turned to the worried human standing right next to her, looking some what surprised.

"Oh...Yeah. You're Marilynn...? The cashier?"

"Kaylynn." She corrected gingerly, "But close..." She tried to give her a small smile for humor.

"Oh...sorry." The gargoyles pointy ears slanted down just an inch, her mind slowly sinking back into the melancholic state.

Kaylynn quickly resumed the conversation before she could lose her. "Hey, uhm, why are you still here...?"

The gargoyle made a weak smirk, grumbling as she retorted, "I'm wondering that myself. Why I am even bothering with this stupid exchange program garbage!?"

"Wait, what? N-No, no, I mean why are you _here_ here? Like, still_ sitting_ here? Shouldn't a bus have picked you up forty minutes ago?"

Sam's expression suddenly perked up in shock, she whipped her head around to the bus sign and checked the scheduled arrival times. She then let out a massively exasperated groan as she hung her head back over the bench, her body limp for a moment.

"For a ginger, I'm such a _blonde_!" She let out another groan before cursing, "Now I have to wait another hour..!"

"Why do you need to worry about the bus?" Kaylynn asked curiously, "I mean, you could fly back home, couldn't you?"

"Oh HELL no-in this weather?!" She turned to the human abruptly, flexing out one of her tucked wings to display, "I'd freeze these off in the upper climate. The wind up there is way too chilly."

Kaylynn nodded her head in empathy, "Right, never would consider that..." her tone then sharpened as she stared at Sam a little more firmly, "But then again, I wouldn't know cuz I don't have-" she points to the gargoyle's wing, "_those_."

Samantha made a scowl at the retort, but quickly let out a needed sigh, "Sorry...Didn't mean to snap at you...And after I had made such a good first impression."

"Well, I've come to quickly learn that it's the second impression that can matter more..." the human muttered at the corner of her mouth. She then quickly responded in her previous, more sincere voice, "No problem, sorry for being a lil bitchy there too. I can get pretty pissed when someone is salty with me."

Samantha let out a chuckle, a more sincere, light hearted one, "I hear that..."

Managing to break the metaphorical ice a bit, Kaylynn assumed to sit next to the disgruntled gargoyle. She was careful on her next words, understanding that, despite that she may _look_ like she was made of stone, she knew when someone was in a tender state of emotions.

"Hey...uhm...Is everything okay...?"

Samantha slowly glanced at the human again, her emerald eyes almost glinted with the warning of potential tears. She cleared her throat, and let out a shaky sigh to suppress her emotions from erupting before answering her question.

"I didn't mean what I said..."

Kaylynn looked at her curiously.

"About this interspecies exchange stuff being garbage...Honestly, it's been amazing ever since I first got picked. My parents, family-Hell-the whole damn clan was thrilled!"

"Wait, 'clan'? Oh so-"

"Yes, yes, like that Disney cartoon."

"Actually I was gonna say like the Scotts, but yeah..."

"Oh...Well, anyways. Everyone was so hyped. Just like all the other liminals that had to hide in human society, we were looking forward to finally...connect, ya know? No more hiding under bridges, no more dwelling in caves, no more obscured online aliases like 'MasterBlaster9000', no more rumors being spread about how we, I don't know, steal babies and turn them into lawn ordainments? You'd get to learn more from us, while we got to learn more about you. I mean, you should've seen the look on my host family's faces when they first met me." She cracked an amused grin as she reminisced the scene, "It was the most jarring thing they ever saw; a monster that _wasn't _scary? Who knew! One moment they weren't sure how to even speak to me, the next I'm like a second daughter to them, well, technically their _fourth_ I guess, they got three girls. All in middle school. Sweet kids, but man they can be a hand-full sometimes...!" She let out another sigh, letting her body slouch down a little into the bench, making it creak under her weight, "Yep, everything was going **great**..."

Kaylynn detected the sudden edge in that last word, the cautious human knew where this was going, she had done it herself a few times in her life. Before she proceeded, she checked her surroundings, making sure that there wasn't too many bystanders near to get caught in the scene that was about to unfold. She braced herself for the coming storm of venting that would explode from the ginger's mouth as she meekly said the following word that would let loose the pint-up fury.

"But...?"

"But FUCKING ERIC!" She finally howled, releasing her rage in a single roar. She suddenly sprung up from her seat, malice fueling her body like liquid nitrogen as she proceeded to rant, "That flame-shitting, ash-sucking, scaly-ass **RACIST**!" In a flurry of blinding anger, her tail, more powerful than it looked, thrashed sideways, hitting the metal pole of the bus sign with a loud, metallic bang that reverberated even after being bent at a near-perfect ninety-degree angle.

But the ginger gargoyle was far from done. "He was the only one-of all liminals-that was against me leaving! My _boyfriend_! Can you believe that!? Oh, my bad, not boyfriend, it's _ex-boyfriend _now! I swear, I could've dated a nice sasquatch, or a cute kelpie, maybe even shack up with a dryder-BUT NOOOOOOO! I just _had_ to fall for the dragonewt! You know they look down at you, humans like you I mean. And under what basis you might wonder? I'll tell ya; they think you're **leaches**-**parasites**-**PESTS**! All you do is crawl around '_sucking the essence out of the earth!'" _as she imitates the quote in a pompous accent, curling her two middle and index fingers as she swung her hips, "And other bullshit like that. Oh yeah!? Well you know what _they_ have done? You know what Dragonewts do? **BOAST**. They walk around talking about how they're so magnificent, and powerful, and how they are the 'descendents of dragons', and that they are the kings of the goddamn world! Well, if you humans are '**leaches'** then dragonewts are spoiled-little-rich kids! At least a parasite _works_ for what they get, dragonewts would either sit on their treasure piles counting their gold-gold that's not even there's to begin with-or go around preaching about '_Oh look at me, I'm such a __**hot shit**__-'_ YOU CAN'T EVEN BREATH FIRE, YOU FUCKING SCRUB!" She stopped, only to give herself a few breaths before continuing, fortunately, she had toned herself back down a little as she added, "You know what he said to me? After I told him about the good news, that I was gonna get a job at the café, you know what he said to me...?" After a short pause, she answered, a crack in her voice surfaced as she quoted, "Why should I even bother loving you, when you choose to love humans more than me...?"

Water and salt were stinging her eyes, as she mustered all her strength not let them cascade down her face. Her arms curled around herself, and her wings hung over her like drapes, as though she wanted to recede into them and just disappear. Kaylynn didn't say anything, but she looked at Samantha with such sympathy, she wanted to leap from the bench, fly at her, and embrace her the tightest hug her tiny body could give. But, she had a better solution, a more "adult" solution.

She stood up, gently reached up to sorrowful she-gargoyle's shoulders and said, "You. Me. Hammered. Pronto."


	10. Chapter 10: Scorned

Meanwhile, on a different corner of the globe, another female liminal was expressing her most recent distraught as well, a plight that was inflicted upon her by a man she too was very familiar with.

"PULL!"

A sharp, serrated voice shrieked the command, then it was followed by the tug of a lever and the release of an elastic clamp. A spinning disc, the purist shade of red, flew high in the air, scouring yards of land, as it spun furiously, a single piece of parchment was tapped onto it's center, however it did not seem to matter for the disk, including the picture, exploded into chunky fragments and shredded paper almost immediately moment after the sound of a powerful gunshot.

"Veery goot, Mistriz!" Wart commended with lifting enthusiasm.

The troll was operating a massive clay thrower contraption, a piece of equipment that far succeeded the necessary standards; racking a slot of disposable disks that nearly reached his lumpy nose. He was wearing a fine white button shirt, that was one size too short for him, including a pair of tan trousers to match his crushed sandles. He was assisting his mistress by providing targets amongst the vast acres of private land she owned. He himself, despite the constant ringing of thunderous gun fire disturbing the peaceful atmosphere, was enjoying the outdoors. He always admired the warm breeze that carried the gentle oceanic scent, the opened skies where he could watch the seagulls and other birds fly across the endless blue, the lush grass that danced and swayed in the brushing gusts, but not his mistress. Oh no, definitely not her, she was more attentive on blasting every disk that dared to fly into her line of sight, or rather, not the disks themselves, but what had been taped to each one individually; a printed photograph of a reasonably youthful man with shoulder length hair as black and burnish as oil. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, much like our acquainted coordinator agent, but his was far more distinguishable. He had angular features and defined cheek bones that made him seem thin, but undoubtedly pristine, perhaps the only deviations to his visage were the oddly tipped ears, abnormally pale complexion, and eyes as red and deep as wine. The current expression he bore during the time of this photo's conception could also be considered unfavorable. His crimson gaze was harsh and piercing as he glanced at the camera lens he was directed to.

The mistress herself was dressed in an attire more appropriate for both the outdoors, and the current activity. She was wearing an outfit that would be deemed otherwise outdated however, much like herself, but as always, no one would dare oppose her dress choice. Closely resembling English countryside attire for summer evenings such as this, but incredibly overcompensated. With a purple vest sewed together by the finest wool money could buy, accommodated by a pair of indigo breeks that wrapped tightly around her incredibly thin legs, and followed by customized hunting boots, that glimmered as though they were made of marble, designed to fit perfectly to her petite but withered pawed feet. She still wore some of her jeweler, a different necklace with crescent diamonds, the pair of earrings that were ringed and wide enough to throw darts through with ease. She even wore a flat cap to complete the outfit, though it would still be considered ruined by any other's preference.

But fashion would be the least of her worries at this current juncture. For inside her slit-pupil eyes was seething rage.

"No. It's not." She said as she let out a throaty growl.

The troll seemed sincerely concerned, "Boot you hovn't missed'e singul one!" It was true, the anthropomorphic feline had commanded the launch of fifty disks, and every one was shot down moments before being thrown.

The mistress let out another hiss before shouting again, "PULL!"

Wart, without hesitation, flung another into the sky.

BANG!

Then it fell to the earth in pieces.

"That despicable **blood-sucker**!" She started to rant as she prepared her aim for the next one, "PULL!"

BANG!

She shoots another one down with precisive accuracy, then orders another.

"That glorified **lamprey**!" Blasts the following even sooner.

"Does that leach have- A little to the right..."

BANG!

"-ANY integrity left?!"

Wart had realized what she had been fuming about and replies with earnest expression as he loads in the next disk, "Oh Mistriz, you ar't still angree with Mizter Gregore?"

The mistress lowers her rifle down, leaning on it as though it were a cane as her other hand rested on her hip while she glares at the troll condescendingly, "Would I have had you print and tape dozens of his smug face onto throwing disks for target practice...if I _wasn't_?"

Wart choked for a moment before responding suggestively, "Maybee you mit be tak'n this a little herd?"

"'A little'? '**A LITTLE'?**" Her feline face was contorted in such a violent expression, Wart was afraid she might hurt herself with the gun, "Do you even remember what he _said?_!"

A few days prior to the current events, Wart had assembled all the necessities, though most of the bags, cases, and luggage hardly fit that criteria, into the ship. It was a yacht by all technicalities of manufacturing and legal purchasing, but it's sheer mass was built like a destroyer class. In fact, if the mistress had bothered to install turrets and missile silos, and then slap a simple coat of gray over it instead of an absurd pallet of dark reds and purples, no one would have noticed the difference. It stood out more as a small freight ship instead of a luxurious cruiser. But that is exactly what it was; a ship to carry ridiculous amounts of cargo while still looking fabulous, or, at least, the mistress _thought_ it looked fabulous.

The feline captain herself was preparing to board, well, actually, she isn't _really_ a captain, she had hired someone else to assume the responsibilities of that duty, she just indulges in the benefits of the title. She was wearing a slim bodycon knitted dress that was maroon in the most potent of shades, the V-neck was shifted toward her left, and very uncomfortably apparent, collar bone as though the dress was a stylized hybrid of a tunic and a toga. Aside from the usual compensation of glamour and jewelry, a large, black wool hat shaded her head. The floppy brim was customized to allow her triangular ears to protrude freely, and the ridge was laced with a fine thread of gilded cloth. Frankly, this was arguably one of her more tamed choices of wardrobe, however, it was still ruined by the fact that _she_ was wearing it.

"Is everything accounted for?" She inquires expectantly as she approaches her troll servant.

"Yarrr! All be reedy te sit sail! Yo-ho-ho!" The troll bellowed with childish laughter. He was wearing a massive sailor outfit that looked as though it was tailored centuries ago. It was still fresh and new by the style made him look like he had tried to audition for the next pirate movie.

The mistress gawked at him with such bewilderment, her thinly eyebrows nearly furrowed a hole through her skull.

"Wot...? You know hoo much I loove ze opin ocean!" It was true, Wart, inherently was Swedish, which implied he must have had at least a little Viking tendencies in his blood. For some, it was the temper and all around brutish behavior, other trolls like Wart had a fondness for ship sailing.

"And yet, I would never tell from the horrible stench you permeate everywhere..." the bastet retorts with minor revulsion, clearly she had grown a tolerance for his...unique fragrance, but would still harp on him for it every now and then. She then changes the subject back to it's original course and says, "Mold has proven his worth once more. Now that we have information to the exact location of where this _Owlman _is, the task of retrieving him will be as simple as the previous job." Her toothy grin crept up in a crooked leer that was so carnivorous, it would've have made a tiger gulp in hesitation.

However, her insidiously gleeful mood was swiftly shut down when her right ear twitched apprehensively at the sound of an all too familiar voice...

"Planning another one of your _expeditions.._?" it was a calm, like a stillness before a coming storm, but cold, colder than the harshest winters. It was a voice that was both caressing and stifling, like the edge of a knife that would tickle the skin just before piercing it.

"And without my permission...**Again.**" The voice added before the mistress turned around to address the source. And there he was.

At the bottom of the walking platform, standing at the very edge of the pier, was a man, tall and lean, probably slightly taller than herself. Skin that was even paler than the wrinkly bastet's, but had a look that was twice as mean. His eyes were hidden behind small, rounded teashade sunglasses that were as black as onyx. The rest of his attire was black as well, from his sleek overcoat to his smooth wingtip shoes, he dressed in a way that suggested he was much older than he looked. Much like the mistress, except he executed it far better. The only oddity in his appearance, aside from the abnormal complexion and ears, was the opened umbrella he shaded over himself despite the fact that there wasn't a single drop of rain.

The mistress, just a moment ago had seemed so insidious and vile, was now on the verge of a cold sweat. She cleared her throat, letting out a hospitable chuckle of enthusiasm. It was an aesthetic laugh that she produces when she wanted to mask her anxiety.

"Lucian, darling~! It's been ages!" She continues the facade, but remains where she was; far from him.

"It shows." He cracked a twitch of a smirk as he retorted, "How many times do you plan to do this behind my back?"

The bastet fidgets, letting out another chuckle, this one seeped her panic out more obviously, "Doing...doing what? I-I don't know what you possibly mean...?"

"Do not take me for a fool, beast-folk." Lucian eyes rippled through his shades, his deadly gaze piercing the mistress and shattering what was left of her composure. "You were one of the founders of this syndicate, and you have provided your support for a great many years. For that, we have shown our gratitude by allowing this _hobby_ of yours to continue up until recently. But you have forced me to repeat myself more than once on this matter, something that I positively **loath** doing."

The edge in his otherwise already serrated tone made the bastet clench. Wart, feeling a little nervous himself, tried to act as sympathizer and interjected softly, "Uhm, but, Mizter Gregore, Miztriss is onleh tryn to-"

"Did I permit you to speak, troll?" The man in black shot a contemptuous glance at the gargantuan, silencing the poor lug with merciless expression.

But then, the bastet managed to swallow back her fear and blast back her own jagged glare, "Oh get over yourself! My retrievals have proven untraceable so far! And where do you think thirty percent of the syndicate's profit comes from? Wart's cinnamon buns?!"

"Are thee that bad...?" Wart whimpered under his breath

"That was **before** M.O.N. had initiated their global exchange program." Lucian retorted, reservedly calm despite the mistress's nasty outburst, "Now that they have expanded, they have far more resources and influence. Every missing liminal that is reported to the news edges closer to our exposure, you have more than enough to sustain your little circuit..."

Suddenly, not only did his eyes ripple again, but it was his entire body that seemed to undulate. Even his clothes were starting to lose their shape, as though his very form was destabilizing on a molecular level. His pale skin rapidly turned black as cole as his eyes burned brightly with red malice, fixated directly at the bastet as he states with dark, unbridled resolution, in a voice that was far deeper and almost demonic, "**I will not have this empire crumble because of **_**your **_**greed, Aaliyah. This will be your last warning: defy me again, and I will personally tear down everything you've built before your arrogance can destroy everything of mine.**" With that last final statement, his form exploded into a swarm of shrieking bats, swirling like a vortex of hellish shadows before suddenly sinking into the earth, disappearing without a single trace.

And now, the mistress Aaliyah, and her right-hand troll Wart, were forced to cancel their arrangement and instead vent frustration through conventional means. First it was cream spiked with alcohol followed with the minor destruction expensive furniture, now to the practice of rudimentary gunfire sessions.

"'Arrogance'! Me! The nerve of that ungrateful night-walker!" The mistress continued to rant.

"Peerhaps iz for the bist, Miztriss. We hov doon all we could." Wart tried to counsel her, "Let's be joyful that we hov managed te keep so maneh naztee liminals off ze streets up te thiz poont."

The bastet only rolls her eyes, disgusted by the troll's capacity for optimism. She reached into her pocket for more ammunition, but instead pulled nothing but lint and air. With a irritated growl, she pitilessly discarded the empty rifle aside, making her way back to the manner to drown her anguish in additionally large quantities of Chateau d'Yquem.

Wart, seeing her leave presumed advocatory, "Veery goot, Miztriss! A goot cat-nap weel make you feel bitter-er-I mean..._beetter._"

Suddenly, after five or six steps, the mistress' ears erected comprehensively, an epiphany striking her awfully terrible mind like an evil thunderbolt of ominous inspiration. She gasped at the specific word that was mentioned, "A '_nap_'..." She then zipped back to her troll servant with unfathomable speed and exclaimed with foul excitement, "An excellent suggestion you dim-witted _**genius**__!_"

The troll smiled humbly, "Why thank you, Miztriss..." he then paused, "uhm, weet...are you b'ing sarcaztic ageen...?" 


	11. Chapter 11: Whisky Woes

Alcohol.

Such a mystical elixir, once used strictly for the sake of medical treatment now is also a drink of choice that appears in a verity of forms and names from every corner of the planet; beer, wine, vodka, sake, whisky, scotch, moonshine, these are but a few of many unique beverages that have graced the pallets of mortals through out the ages. Despite it's bitter taste and harsh burn, many find themselves savoring this enchanted liquid like the purest of nectar. There was even a time where alcohol was considered healthierto drink than _water_. What ludicrous nonsense!

But, this was true.

Alcohol, for better or worse, has influenced the course of humanity more than you might think. It has embedded itself in our cultures, our history, even our very beliefs have been touched by its wondrous power. One sip could ruin a life forever, one glass could define a moment of an era, it could mark the birth of an ideal or destroy what is most precious. We drink it to forget, we drink it to remember, we drink it to laugh, and we drink it to cry. It can make one philosophical while it deteriorates another's mind, and it has the power to save a life, and it has the power to end one.

Indeed, it is a wavering relationship that humans share with this tantalizing, yet dangerous, substance that is called alcohol.

But such a thing could not have effected just _one _species.

It came to no surprise that many of the extra-species that had been revealed to the world, share their own indulgence for the enthralling drink, and have experienced their own..._reactions_ to it. Some have even brewed their own unique beverages as additions to the long list of illustrious cocktails.

Have you ever heard of a 'Scale Rumble'?

Or, perhaps you may have seen a 'Tailspin' written on the menu here and there?

If not, then I'd humbly suggest you try to get out more.

Regardless, young Miss Dorsey is about to discover that she will have more than what she had initially expected after offering anemotionally wounded she-gargoyle a night of drinking.

And, like all encroaching storms, it begins fairly calm.

Kaylynn knew of a charming little bar called "The Merry Maverick" not far from where she worked in the downtown area. It was built long before the Exchange act was established, but it quickly revamped its menu as well as refurbished the lounging space to accommodate for larger extra-species as potential customers.

It was apparent tonight.

Once, it was a humble pub, tucked cozily between a local minimart and a barbershop, after its neighboring business, "Phil's Snips", shut down and left the building to be a vacant husk, the pub's owner took full advantage of the empty building and thus merged his establishment with it, extending the rooming and refining the pub into a renewed bar and restaurant. The inside of the building was old fashioned in concept, but was modernized to further compliment the management's integrity. Internal walls of the tavern were red bricked as picture frames of iconic automobiles nailed over them, giving it a subtle industrial charm to it's otherwise homey atmosphere. The actual bar itself was still fairly simple; a flat, smooth surface over polished oak with an excellent coat of varnish to keep itself dry and sturdy, where as the stools were patted leather cushions supported by four well-built legs and brass feet, and looming over the serving table were wide bowl lamps that shone brightly over the bar to emphasize more of that industrial tone.

This theme was apparently very popular as of tonight in particular, for the place was impressively busy. Several tables were packed with friends, couples, and other groups, some dined where as others played the pool table or sat at the lounge to a friendly game of cards, and there was some who preferred to watch the television with a cold glass in hand.

And then there was Kaylynn and Samantha, whom had just entered the premises.

The human host had visited this place once or twice during her time in college, however, she was surprised to see that it had changed so much since then. However, it wasn't just the furniture that was grasping at her attention. A menagerie of different liminals and cryptids were among the human customers that accompanied them. A few of which she could distinguish.

Such as a couple of furry looking individuals that she recognized as kobolds whom were chatting with another pair of humans, there was a trio of harpies who were bickering-or rather _squawking_\- over whom was a more attractive male celebrity; Johnny Depp, Chris Hemsworth, or Idris Elba.

In one of the dining booths, there was a tiny dryder, or arachne as some prefer, that was currently devouring a massive plate of nachos as her reptilian companion, a lizardman, palmed his face with embarrassment for being associated with someone with such terrible table manners.

These were just a few that young Dorsey could notice.

There were other liminals who had merged into the collective sea of socialization, some of which Kaylynn had not seen before.

Samantha on the other hand, though did not show it, could really care less of how nice the place looked, nor was interested in greeting with any of the other customers, she was more focused on drowning her feelings in hard liquor as soon as possible.

Before Dorsey could allow herself to gawk for too long, she lead Sam to the bar area where they had managed to find seats. While they wait for the barkeeper to arrive at their end of the table, young Dorsey decided to arouse a conversation out of the depressed ginger. They had spoken to one another prior to arriving at the Merry Maverick, but that was little more than small talk while trying to avoid the subject matter revolving around her newly dismissed ex.

Now, was a proper moment to conduct a more engaging discussion.

"A lot more lively than I'd expected tonight." The human admits, winning a glance from Sam, though be it a _detached_ one.

With no verbal response yet, Kaylynn tries to incite her more by inquiring to her curiously, "Anyone here you might know...?"

The she-gargoyle, with heavy eyes, turns her gaze to the crowd behind them, spying the tables, game room, floor staff, but she merely turned away with a dull expression and answered dryly, "Nope..."

Kaylynn, feeling the subject getting cold rapidly fast, she decides to ask a different question and says, "So, how long have you been here?"

"About three months, give'er take a couple of weeks..." Sam replies vacantly while staring at the wide verity of whiskey on the rack.

Kaylynn lets out a soft whistle, "It's only been a couple of months for me as well..." She admits with a humble smile.

Sam's ears suddenly perk up, as though she had just pulled her head out of the muck just a little more, as she turns to her with more invested attention, "You're part of the program too?"

Kaylynn had not realized it until now, but she had completely failed to mention that detail sooner. With a look of minor apprehension, she responds nonchalantly, "Oh, yeah, I'm a host, well, sort of."

The ginger's brow slanted, her left ear mimicking the same angle as her wings shift and readjust, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not so much a host but more of a..._supervisor_? I don't know, my coordinator explained it better. I and Ray, the exchange candidate, were put into a brand new house together as fellow tenants. We pay the rent together from our own ends, and we work separate jobs." Though she stops to mutter under her breath, "Technically, he _isn't_ working yet..." Then proceeds in a normal tone, "So, I don't really support him as much we support each other, I'm just suppose to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble...well, him and another."

"Another?"

"Yeah, some..._stuff_ happened recently and we got a new roommate to share the rent, though, why my coordinator decided that would be the _best_ idea, I'm not sure."

"Sounds...complicated?"

"That's one way of putting it. I'm not gonna lie, this whole program that I've been 'selected' for, it still feels kinda surreal...But what about your host family? I wanna talk more about them. You said they have three daughters?"

Sam cracked a reminiscent smile, finding comfort in remembering those children.

"Yeah; Madeline, Cynthia, and Daisy. Mady is the nerdy one of the three, so, naturally, she wasn't as scared as the rest of her family when she first met me. She became fascinated by me, constantly asking me questions, like, how high can I fly or if my skin is really made of rock, I'd never thought I'd meet a thirteen-year-old that could make such a long list of questions in a single afternoon!"

Kaylynn let out an amused snicker before Sam continued on.

"Cynthia, however, is a cheerleader for her school's basketball team."

"I'm detecting incoming high levels of perkiness from this one."

"Oh, to the _eleventh_ _degree_!" She then proceeds to mimic an example of the teenager's usual attitude as accurately as possible, as she closed her eyes for a moment, then gingerly clasped her cheeks with her claws and opened her eyes widely with sparkling flare as she impersonates, though be it arguably exaggerated, with the following quotes, "OH-EM-GEE! She has wings and a tail!? That's _soooo _cra! But I _LOVE_ your hair! I'm so twit'n this to my besties, EL-OH-EL~!"

"That bad, hugh? You poor thing." Kaylynn retorts, impressed by her imitation skills, but was internally cringing at just how authentic it was.

Sam chuckled softly at her comment before resuming her story, "Nah, she's not all _that_ bad. She's tactless, sure, but as my stay there lasted longer, I started to grow on her more, eventually she tried talking to me more too, usually it's just her chatting about herself, but, she seems so fixated on my attention now of days."

"And what about Daisy?"

"Evil. Genius. Mastermind."

A genuine laugh immediately vacates the human's mouth, but quickly hushes herself to listen further.

Sam couldn't help but have a good chuckle at her own comment before proceeding and says, "She is _technically_ the youngest, but my _god_ she has the mind of a super villain. You know what she asked me when she started warming up to me? '_Do you like eating cheerleaders?_'"

"You sure these girls are '_sweet_'?" Kaylyn retorts with a sarcastic smirk.

"I also said they could be a pain in the ass."

"Point take'n."

"But, they really are good kids. Some of them just have..._quirks_."

The conversation was interrupted by the intrusion of a tall, fairly obese man standing on the other side of the serving table. This plump gentleman's name is Gerald Thomas, the owner of the establishment and more currently the bartender for the evening. Regulars simply call him Mav, though, Gerald is not entirely sure why that is, but he cared little what other's labeled him, he could be called Fluffchin McCueball and be content if it meant keeping his business intact...actually, he might take great offense to that and express it with a tire iron to the teeth, regardless of what species you were.

Nevertheless, despite how he may look like a retired biker gang boss, he knew how to be polite and courtly when it mattered.

"'Scuse me? Sorry t'break yer gals' flow. Was curious what'cha might be thirsty for. Decided on anything yet?" Gerald inquires civilly, his gravelly tone rich with a rugged Texan charm.

The two ladies paused, realizing they haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet. The two quickly scan the options written on the board looming over the liquor cabinet. Kaylynn was the first to make her choice, "I'll just have a martini, light please?" While she did want some fun as well, she had to remember that she promised Sam a ride home.

Sam followed quickly after, "I'll go for a bottle of tequila."

"You got it!" He complies with a jolly grin before walking away and hollering to another co-worker at the other end, "Max! Got a fruit and salt'n'lemon over here! Give yerself som'thin easier to do and serve up these ladies, okay? I'll take over on that end!"

The other server he was calling at was a female liminal, a startled, and even taller than Gerald ogre, skin as red as cherries, a pair of small horns protruding from her forehead, and silvery white hair touching her shoulders, she also looked like she was having some difficulty preparing her current orders.

Anxiously, she acknowledges and says, "Y-Yeah! I'm sorry boss-"

"Not'n wrong, big girl, yer fine, all part'a the train'n. Just get go'n." He assures her sympathetically but still retains his sternness.

Kaylynn looked at the she-gargoyle curiously, "Tecuila on the first go, eh?"

"Oh please! My family is _scottish_!" She retorts proudly.

"Alright, alright. I won't mommy you."

One half of an hour later.

"C'mon Mav daddy! Shlam me wiv anover...!" The ginger commands slavishly, holding the 3rd empty bottle up like a warrior on the crusade.

"Uhm...I'm still your server though." The ogre corrects hesitantly.

"I'd just-hic-do what she says..." Kaylynn chimes in, seemingly still retaining at least a fraction of her clarity, before adding on, she takes another sip of her drink and says, "You know how...how...how..." She glances at Sam momentarily, "What did you say you were again...?"

"I _toooold _yooo, ye shilly...uhm...what did ye shay ye were...? HUMAN! vatsh right..! You a human, and me..a..g..gar...gargler...!" Sam spontaneously erupts in snickering laughter, giggling like a dying gerbil before adding, "I'm **definitely** a gargler of _thishh_ shtuff!" She kisses the empty bottle passionately, causing the server to simply walk away awkwardly without another word.

Kaylynn tried to call her back, pleading for another glass, but, she was already out of earshot. In her buzzed dismay, she slumped onto the edge of the table looking very displeased.

"Did I ev' tell ye that Eric absholutely _**hated**_drink'n..?" Samantha slurred at Kaylynn.

The random question perked the inebriated human's curiosity as she replied with, "Oooh~! Are we finally-hic-getting to the part where we just _**shit on**_ our ex's..? Because I think I'm _juuuuust _about smashed enough for that."

Samantha made a rousingly deep giggle that was almost cynical if it not for the fact that she was utterly intoxicated from her cherry red cheeks all the way down to her sporadically swishing tail, "Sho...ye have one ov them too, ehh~?"

"Wait till ye hear his name." She retorts with a snickering grin, "Richard Gobbler."

The she-gargoyle immediately explodes in a fit of unbridled laughter, cackling loudly as she held her sides, her tail flinging even more wildly, and her wings suddenly outstretched in impulse to keep herself somewhat balanced from toppling off her seat as they spasm and flap.

In brief breaths between the prolonged waves of bursting drunken mirth, she struggles to make a cohesive response and simply says, "You-you can'be s-sherioush!? That name! Oh mah gawd _that name_!"

Kaylynn was displaying her own form of bursting amusement, but managed to respond in a more stable manner, "I'm _dead_ serious-hic-But, I guess it shows what they say..."

Just as Sam was calming her laughs and settling down to manageable giggles, she inquires, though still a bit shaken, curiously, "W-Wha' would tha' be...?"

"You _are_ what you _eat_!"

The she-gargoyle blows up again into another fit of howling hilarity, the alcohol in her system retaining her obnoxious mood to a degree that reached higher than most of the noise being cultivated within the room. The two ladies earned a few peculiar stares and annoyed glances, but all knew that this was a bar and a place of merriment, this was to be expected.

When the two girls managed to bring their voices down to a more tolerate tone, Sam inquired curiously, still retaining her gleeful grin, "Okay...Sho, why did you even bother with an assh like that...?

"I dunno..." The human answers blankly, wearing the same smile as she twirls a finger into her glass, "It was back-hic-in highschool, and I didn't know bett'r, and...ya know...same reasons why you liked Eric...?"

There was a moment of silence between the two girls. Kaylynn had not noticed it yet, but Sam's smile quickly evaporated as the memories came flowing back into her mind. She sighs at the retort, but even drunk, she knew Kaylynn's comment wasn't meant to be direct. She tries to shake the last few drops of her bottle down her gullet, then replies, drifting her gaze away and staring into space, "I thought he was...nice...and shweet...funny, handsome, charm'n..."

Kaylynn, turning to her more attentively, listens to her with sympathy in her eyes.

The she-gargoyle continues her lament, "I...loved him...I loved him sho...much...I loved how he'd call me _Hammy Sammy_ when I'd goof off...I loved how he'd kneel down, kiss my hand, and say hello, just like how we first met..." Her nose sniffled for moment, "And then...I'd ask him, every time, I'd ask him, 'Why so formal today?' And then he'd look up at me with those...stupid...adorable eyes of his, and say, 'because everyday I see you, I fall..." Her voice cracks, "I fall in love with you all over again!'...He's such a fucking sap like that..."

It's a fickle thing, the effects of alcohol. When one drinks it in times like this, they do so to smother away the memories too painful to look back on, but, sometimes, it only makes them remember it more.

Kaylynn looked at the Samantha as depression and despair crept their way back into the she-gargoyle's heart like a ship taking on water. She puts down the remainder of her glass and clasps the ginger's shoulder with supple caress and compassion, catching her attention for a moment and exposing a single tear that had rushed down her reddened grey cheek.

"...I know I only met you today, so I won't pretend to know your life story...But if there is one thing I _do_ know, is that you should **never** take the blame for someone else's choice...I don't know what Eric's deal is...but if he _really _loved you, he would've supported you and accepted humans more for your sake..."

Slowly, she leans over to wrap her arms around the back of the she-gargoyle in a much needed hug of affection.

Though be it a tad awkward because of how much her wings were in the way,

Sam, even intoxicated, was moderately startled by the sudden embrace, but she allowed it, took it even, returning the hug back to Kaylynn as both her arms and wings enveloped the caring brunette and they stayed in that position for a brief, tender moment. When Sam's tears dried, and after a few muffled sniffles, the two released one another with smiles gradually returning to their faces.

"Feel'n better...?" Kaylynn inquires sweetly.

"I...I'm not sure...I little, I think...?" Sam admits, her brain exhausted from both the emotional whiplash and the swelling alcohol.

"Well, if nothing else...Least you dated someone that wasn't Dick Gobbler." She retorts with a playful smirk.

Sam couldn't help but let out a snorting snicker, followed by a soft giggle before she responds with, "Shaddup, ya drunk...!"

Kaylynn scoffs lavishly, "Pffft! I'm not-hic-drunk, _yer_ drunk!"

The two traded more laughs of soothing joviality, returning to the merriment that was abundant before. There were a few that had noticed Sam's sorrows, but their attention did not matter to these two. Sam did not need their concern or worry, she didn't even need the tequila.

Alcohol has indeed made an influence on the world and has played it's part in history many times over...But it is something that was never _needed_, it was never something that was _depended_ on. What Sam _needed_, right now, more than what alcohol could ever provide, was a friend.

However, I did say a storm was brewing, did I not.


	12. Chapter 12: Smashed and Smasher

Gerald, as he brewed his drinks and served his orders, the plutonic bonding that was stirring between the little lady and the she-gargoyle did not pass his notice. His old heart touched by their moment, he felt it only fair to show them a token of empathy. After he had finished his last order, he escaped around the back of the bar and into the cellar, where he found Max, as he expected, feverishly searching for another bottle.

"'Ey, Max." Gerald grabs her attention.

With a fidgeting wince, she glances back behind her to see her boss, "I-I'm sorry. The gargoyle drank all the tequila in the cabinet, I can't seem to find any back here either and-"

"Take a deep breath, big girl." He assures her gently, "Yer not in trouble. I just wanted to let you know the next bottle you give her is on the house. Be sure to tell her that, okay?"

"But I don't know where anymore are, I mean, I checked the inventory this morning, and I could've sworn..."

The ogress stops herself as she notices Gerald's finger pointing at her, or rather, above her. When she followed the direction, her shoulders slumped as she saw, lo and behold, an untouched bottle, ready to be plucked from the shelf.

The amused bartender leaves her with a sympathetic smirk and a casual reminder to take it easy. She heeds his advise, humbly, as she grabs the liter before returning to the front, resuming to serve the patient customers, finding that the she-gargoyle had calmed down, though she could see some red still lingering in her tear stung eyes.

"Uhm, hello you two...?" The meek ogress politely intervenes, "I hate to interrupt, but here is your refill. And the boss says this one is on the house, so enjoy!"

The two ladies looked fairly surprised by such a kind gesture.

"Oh...Really?" Sam asks, genuinely confused, but still grateful. They paid their appreciation to the ogress, deciding to no longer question such charitable service. However...The bottle that Max had retrieved from the back was not of the same brand, her inexperience and susceptible nature buckling under stress influenced her judgment and simply dismissed that little fact, Gerald would have known better if he had only been a few feet closer to notice the difference, but alas, what the young ogress gave unwary Samantha was not the usual rounds of tequila, but _Sierra _Tequila. Poor Maxine simply figured that no harm could come from it...How very, **very **wrong she would be.

Sam, still too intoxicated to bother noticing the differences herself, appreciatively takes the bottle and takes a nice long swig.

Kaylynn glances at Sam and comments, "That was pretty awesome of Maverick! We should come here more often." But as she did, she noticed the ginger's expression changing rapidly as she watched her chug the bottle continuously, "Uhm...are you okay, Sam?"

Within moments after swallowing the powerful liquid, as it cascades down her gullet and rapids into her system, turning her almost as crimson red as the foolish ogre that served her this overwhelming elixir, it had finally pushed her over the edge, and it made itself abundantly clear by invoking a hefty, satisfied belch from the pit of her stomach.

If she wasn't consider smashed before now, then she was certainly, undeniably, completely _destroyed_.

Kaylynn was about to express her concern, but at that same moment, before she could speak another word, the sudden rush of the entrance door opening then immediately shutting, caught the human's instant attention. Most of the bar was too preoccupied to notice the newcomer, but Kaylynn on the other hand...

"Ozzie!?" She spouted in surprise, shocked to see him here of all places at such a late hour, she had figured that he was on his way to work by this time. But no, there he was, barricading the door with his body, his chest pulsating with rapid breaths.

Ozzie's tufts perked up, noticing his human roommate and looking directly at her with that vague, wide-eyed expression of beaming red lights. Without a word, he quickly hurries towards her, his talons reaching out.

Seeing him acting more strange than he usually was, she tries to inquire of his reasons, "Ozzie, what's the matt-ERR"

But Ozzie hoists her out of her seat, by the shoulders, and turns her towards the door, holding her up like a shield as he says with a small hint of absolute fear in his hoarse voice, "Tame him...!"

"What are you talking about, Ozzie!?" Kaylynn demanded, shifting helplessly in the owlman's talons, "And put me down already!"

"I can't..." he replies, "He is very angry...with me...only you can...calm him...!"

"Who is angry with you? Are you talking about Ray? Oh my god, what did you two do!?" But, her incessant fidgeting was abruptly silenced when she noticed Sam standing behind him with a very unfavorable look in her eyes. Just before Ozzie could notice as well, he felt a stone-hard grip clench his own shoulder, then found himself flying across the room and crashing into the Harpies' table, making the trio scatter just before the impact, shrieking and screaming. Ozzie, while still disoriented, tried to emerge from the debris, but moved with newfound speed upon seeing his assailant lunge at him while screaming, "FOR THE HORDE!"

The frightened Owlman managed to evade the body slam, but failed to watch his footing as he slipped and fell again onto one of the dining tables, catapulting both the tiny dryder and her half-finished dish over at the other end of the tavern and splattering on the unsuspecting head of one of the kobolds, prompting him to pick a fight with the first, most likable suspect within his immediate vicinity-which was, unfortunately, the dryder that had landed on the other kobold's face. In a string of moments toppling over eachother like dominos, the entire establishment erupted into a flurry of chaos. The harpies dispersal disturbed a friendly game of pool, aggravating the players involved, a dart thrower was knocked by one of the squawking bird ladies and nearly hit a the lizardman, invoking him to engage, and so on and so fourth, the fighting only escalated and in the middle of it all was Samantha and Ozzie, however the shook owlman was starting to think he had better chances with the aggravated jersey devil.

Samantha, however, was looking forward to this confrontation as she cracks her knuckles and spouted in a mess of sloppy slurs, "Were ye ge' off!? -HIC- Thank ye can jus' sshnitch up a shwit garl and do WETEVER wit' har!?"

Ozzie, scrambling to get back up on his feet, finds himself cornered. With his talons up in surrender, he ties to reason with her and pleads, "I am..not...sure what you...mean...but.."

"I'll kack _YER _butt, yah buggeh-eyed haggish shtuffar!" She howlers as she rushes at him with a sluggish fist. But Ozzie manages to dodge just out of the way, as Sam's bare knuckles smash against the brick wall with a powerful thud. It wasn't strong enough to break through, thankfully, but it did leave a significant crack, even her fist seemed unscathed from the impact.

Sam was far from done, however, and tried to come at the owlman again, except she had failed to watch her step and her foot was snagged in between the legs of a fallen chair. As she tripped and stumble, the momentum of her body plowed her face into Ozzie's fragile abdomen, slamming into him like a massive cinderblock. As they fell together, their combined weight snapped another dining table in half, shooting an obscenely large condiment bottle into the air like a glass red rocket, only to plummet back down onto the owlman's unfortunate cranium. Thankfully, the bottle was hard enough to not break to leave any gashes or deep cuts, but it still managed to leave a nasty bump and a minor concussion on the poor boy.

Max took cover behind the counter, sheltering herself as though it were a bomb raid. Then Gerald came running back to the front, after hearing the growing commotion from his office, shocked and then utterly annoyed at the scene he was witnessing.

"Wha'ta Hell is go'n on ou' here!?" He shouts outrageously.

"I-I dunno, Boss!" The ogress responds nervously, "I'm not fired am I!?"

Gerald snorts irritably at the scene before him, "An' here I though' once tha' Bastard Phil was good an' gone...Looks like I'll be need'n _Matilda _after all. Max, jus' stay there, you'll be safe!" Then he retreats back behind the bar and disappears with the dark promise of returning.

Meanwhile, Kaylynn was watching as the entire scene unfolded into disarray and anarchy. She did her best to stay out of the fray while still trying to keep an eye on her friends. She called and cried their names several times to no avail, the sounds of mindless bashing drowned her voice. But just as she was about to dial the coordinator's cellular number, she heard the entrance door open again behind her.

It was Ray, standing at the door before her, well to be more precise, he was teetering before her. Panting profusely, half exhausted, his tail dragged, and his wings limp, draped over his shoulders as his arms tried to support him on his knees.

"Damn...those...feathered...wings...!" He managed to mutter dryly between needed breaths.

"Ray?!" Kaylyn exclaimed, surprised but relieved to see him, "What exactly is going...you know what, that can wait. I need you to get Ozzie and Sam out of that mess!" She points to the massive brawl that was swelling like an angry hornet's nest, spotting Ozzie laying on the floor with some liminal female sprawled on top of him.

The jersey devil, while still breathing heavily, looked at the entire scene, but merely waved his claw at it nonchalantly as he retorted, "Ah...no worries, I know how to fix this...but first..." He groggily lumbered over to the bar, finding a frightened oggress taking refuge under the counter. With a gentle tap of his claw, she made the timid Max jump with a startle, but got her attention none the less, though be it she looked more terrified at whom she was looking at currently.

"Hi..." He greets her courtly with a gruff tone, "Can I have a glass of water, please?'

Perplexed by the request given the massive frenzy that was happening right next to them, she silently complied and quickly handed him a cup with a shaky hand.

the devil thanked her kindly with a polite gesture, and dunk the entire drink in one gulp. with a satisfied sigh, he turns to the crowd of angry brawlers and inhales a deep, _deep_ breath.

Then stomps his heavy hoof into the floor with a hard, thunderous thud then followed by a ear-splitting, howling roar. The feral scream shook the very walls of the establishment. It bellowed and undulated, silencing everyone within the bar and freezing them where they stood as though they had just met the gaze of a gorgon. Instead, they were looking at a hulking Jersey devil with a golden fire burning in his eyes, with nostrils flared, stern arms crossed, and wings outstretched to display his unwavering aura of authority.

Ray glares at the crowd of drunks and other unfortunate occupants, and growls firmly with unrivaled intimidation, "Out. **Now**."

The crowd wastes no time complying as they rush towards the door, leaving the mess they made behind. The floor was caked with drinks and half-eaten food, tables and chairs were either in pieces or flipped as they were scattered across the space, even the game room and lounge were victims of the angry throw down. The only two that still stayed were Ozzie and Sam, the owlman currently too disoriented to move while Samantha, despite Ray's ungodly howling, was too drunk to care as she sluggishly attempts to lift herself up from the floor and stands over the defeated owlman in victory, raising her fist in the air as she slavishly cheers, " Don' worreh, Kay! I gotcher back! CAN YOO DIGIT...!" only to immediately collapse onto her back, hitting the ground like a sack of concrete, then finally passing out.

With everyone but themselves gone, Ray relaxes his posture and let's out a dry coughing fit as he massages his neck, "Ugh...How does Pops do that without shredding his throat...?"

"Yeah, how 'bout some _warning_ next time...?" Kaylynn retorts, still rubbing her ear lobes to snuff out the ringing in her skull.

"My bad. So, what exactly happened here?"

"You tell me! Ozzie came in here looking half scared to death, saying you were coming after him."

"Me?! I just got here! What about that gargoyle? What's her deal!?."

"She's just drunk, Ray...though she wasn't _that_ smashed a moment ago..."

"Don' really care how drunk she was, she still caused a massive figh' ta break ou' in my bar!" A harsh tone clutched both the devil and human's attention with a chilling grip, turning to see a very...upset Maverick holding what appeared to be a very nasty looking tire iron.

His "Matilda" no doubt.

Kaylynn gulps her apprehension down her throat as she stood before the angry manager before replying hesitantly, "Uhm, I...don't suppose an apology will suffice...?"


	13. Chapter 13: Down Town

( A brief pardon for my late update, I had meant to submit a chapter during October, but alas, I was distracted by other endeavors, I apologize deeply for any of those whom had been waiting patiently for the next chapter. However, to make up for lost time, expect a new chapter to follow after this one in the immediate future. I will guarantee another update before the end of this month. May you enjoy your read, and I thank you for your tolerance.

With Humble regards, and sincere gratitude,

-Crowscythe )

Needless to say, Kaylynn's apology was not enough to sate Gerald's frustration, which is justifiably so what with his humble establishment being maliciously torn apart as though he was reliving a memory from the _good ol' days_, but still, the man could try to show a bit more tolerance. Instead, after a quick call and an hour later, agent Jones proved, as coordinators from his department often do so effortlessly, to be far more successful in swaying the bartender's mood, no doubt the promise of immediate repairs with all expenses _gorgeously _paid for by the oh so very charitable U.S. government had a helping hand in sealing that deal. However, he could've paid Gerald all the gold in Fort Knox and he still would not agree to ignore the cause of this whole mess. With the promise of repairs he indeed agreed to not take any legal action against Miss Dorsey and her extraspecies associates, however, for the safety of his business, he demanded another condition, and that was a temporary forbiddance from stepping into his bar again. At least it was _only _temporary...

After that incident was more or less resolved, Jones made sure that the still very much smashed gargoyle; Samantha, was escorted home before she could cause anymore trouble, and more paperwork for the coordinator to fill out. It was a shame too, Kaylynn was unable to even send a fair well before she was forced to depart from the scene. No matter though. She can vent her disappointment out on the two "knuckleheads", as she referred to them, that were living with her and demand just what in the world were they doing...

actually, perhaps it would be better for young Dorsey if she would take some well deserved rest, she was still a bit buzzed herself before all the excitement broke out. Besides, Ozzie had come to not long after everything had transpired, and he was dreadfully late for his graveyard shift at the pawnshop.

What an odd sentence that was. Who would ever visit a pawnshop in the middle of the night?

Still, while Kaylynn will have to wait for an explanation later, Ray needed to inform Jones of what had happened, for his computer was in desperate need of viral repair. The entire reason why Ray had chest Ozzie out of the house was actually accidental on the Jersey Devil's part, after the initial shock of realizing that his computer was invested with malware, he had panicked, resulting in startling Ozzie and impulsively flying out the attic window, or, more accurately, _bursting _out the window. Which means the irritated Jones will have to call more than _one _repair crew on top of hiring a local technician to clean Ray's computer device.

The coordinator was starting to feel thirsty for a drink himself...

Morning had come sooner than appreciated, but fortunately, today was Kaylynn's dayoff, one of the reasons why she could afford to stay out longer than she would have. As the morning glow crept between the window curtains and brightened her room to a gentle crawl, so did she emerge from her slumber with reluctant manner. Her room was the same as she had left it when she had gone to work, actually it was relatively the same not long after she had moved in. Her private living space was nothing too _extravagant, _needless to say, but it wasn't terrible either, but rather somewhere in between. Far better than what her previous rooming was like. She had simple white painted walls, a sliding mirror door closet, a personal bathroom, modest size dresser, handmade bookshelves, a small, cumbersome, elderly relic of a television from the mid 90s, a plastic hamper where _most_ of her used clothing _should've_ been but were actually on the floor, a twin sized bed supported by a dark wooden frame, accommodated with all her hand me down sheets, pillows, and blankets included, and of course the adorable stuffed elephant Tan-Tan laid next to her as she slowly rose from the sheets.

The human tenant was greeted by a dull ache in her skull, courtesy of the hang over. If this swelling pain was the result of a few drinks, than she dread to wonder how Samantha was fairing.

Can gargoyles even have hangovers?

Well, that mystery will have to wait for another day, for while Kaylynn would rather have just laid back down to sleep the headache away, the loud ringing of the front doorbell caused her to spring herself right back up in a startle, which only worsened the throbbing. She really didn't want to, but she remembered Jones advising her that there would be a repairman to fix the attic trapdoor and window coming by sometime in the morning. With reluctance, she drags herself from the mattress, throws on the nearest rags of clothes she could find, and then proceeds out of her room to answer the door. But, it would appear that by the time she had gotten around, Ray had already let the visitor in, who was indeed the repairman. The mid-40s looking chap did not waste much time as he sauntered by after asking directions to where the attic was, not even paying the girl a first glance. Kaylynn, not paying much mind as well, proceeded towards the kitchen for some much needed coffee, it was one of the few ingestible things in the house she knew was reserved only for herself because thankfully Ray loathed the taste of coffee beans.

Joining her was the Jersey Devil as mentioned, Wearing another flannel shirt, this time red, over a simple black shirt matching a pair of torn blue jeans. Greeting her with his usual friendly smile, "How you feel'n?" he asks hospitably.

As she set the brewer, she let out a languished yawn before responding in a groggy tone, "When I get some caffeine in my system, I'll let you know..."

Ray's ears drooped for a moment, Kaylynn didn't notice his expression, he felt somewhat responsible for last night's events. He understood that, despite her temper, Kaylyyn was an astonishingly tolerant person, she was a bit skittish at first when they first met, he can remember how she would posture herself around him as though he were a landmine. Nevertheless, even if Kaylynn was as forgiving as she was, causing more problems for her than she would like needed to be rectified. Just as she had helped him before, Ray would take it upon himself to return the favor.

With a smirk, Ray retorts, "Well, when you're done with that, we should go and do something today. Today's your day off right?"

Kaylynn, making a peculiar expression at his comment, turned and looked at him with a curious, though be it still tired, glance, "Do...what exactly?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, both shoulders and wings in unison, "Movies, arcade, a walk in the park, I'm up for anything to be honest...well, I doubt you want to go drinking anytime soon." His snout twitches a humorous smirk.

"I agree..."

The two tenants' heads perk up and turn to the familiar voice, realizing that it was Ozzie, standing just outside of the walkway, wearing yet another identical pair of suspenders.

Kaylynn greeted him first, "Morning Ozzie, how's your head?"

The Owlman caressed the crown of his skull, nursing the lingering lump, before replying, "Its...better...But I agree with...hmm..." he pauses to stare at Ray intently, like a puzzle desperately needing to be solved.

"Ray." The devil inserted for him, meagerly irritated as he looked back at him narrowly.

"Right..."Ozzie continued, "I think...the three of us...should...uhm..." He looks at Kaylynn now, this time asking the answer to his new riddle with a softer voice, "What is...the term...again...?"

Kaylynn stared at him, not entirely sure what he was asking, but simply replied with her first guess and says, "have a hangout...?"

Ozzie's tufts shifted upward, as he nodded with a little more excitement in his otherwise vacant expression.

"You can't leave this house till dark, remember?" Ray interjects, sounding more harsh than he intended. Admittedly, he never planned on including Ozzie along regardless, primarily because he was still carrying a hint of antagonism towards the peculiar Owlman

Kaylynn on the other hand, as an epiphany struck her brain, she looked back at Ray, then returned her glance back at Ozzie before she interjects as well and says, "Actually, technically he is not aloud to leave the house without an escort. So...with that being said, I'd be totally down for the three us just taking a trip around the town...just let me drink my coffee first...oh and, maybe shower too..."

Ray's expression suddenly dimmed as she concluded the conversation on the spot and retreated back to her bedroom with freshly brewed coffee in hand. Once she had left, it was just him and the Ozzie as he stared at him with his usual awkward, silent gawk.

"What is it now...?" Ray said bitterly.

"I...could have sworn...your name was...Jeffery."

"Shuddup, featherbrain."

After everyone had finished preparing for the day ahead, Kaylynn in particular, dressing in autumn clothing for the cold air, they set out on foot as they traveled into town. During that time, not much of deep conversation was conjured between the three, mostly just short talk that was directed at young Miss Dorsey rather than between Ozzie and Ray, whom both looked at the very least uninterested in the other's opinion. Eventually, managing not to tear each other apart yet, they made it into the down town area. While there they passed by local restaurants, shops of antiquity, produce stands, lounging areas. However, nothing had yet to pique their interests yet, well, something interesting certainly happened nonetheless.

"So where to now guys?" Kaylynn inquires to her fellow tenants, feeling that this "hangout" was growing staler than this writers' own humor.

Ray glanced around at the neighboring establishments and noticed a well furbished album store called Jammer Head. It might not come as much of a surprise, but this Jersey Devil had a weakness for musical pieces, specifically those that involve an electric guitar solo in the songs. For him, this looked like a venture worth exploring, "How 'bout that joint?" He suggests with a gesturing flip of his snout in the direction of the store, "Back home the only music I could ever listen to was 80's rock covers...not that there is anything wrong with Scorpion or Def Leppard, but I've always been curious of what other pieces there are."

Specifically _other_ 80's rock covers that _weren't _Scorpion or Def Leppard.

"No." Ozzie declines, though he had not meant to seem as so, he sounded callous as he said it.

Ray repaid him with a cold glance, "Oh? Than what would _you_ like to do then? I don't see you saying anything."

Ozzie takes a turn at surveying the area around them as well, spotting a petite shop that appeared to sell a variety of books, books of which seemed old and prestige, beckoning him like a choir of sirens to turn their pages and unravel the mysteries within, "Perhaps...there...?"

"You're kidding right?" Ray retorts sarcastically.

Ozzie glances back at the devil, his expression blank, but his eyes suddenly intensifying their red glow, "I...did not realize...I _**was**_..."

Kaylynn could sense an aura of animosity steadily growing between the two, like a silent storm beginning to stir. She quickly jumps in and attempts to quell the antagonism as she interrupts with, "We can check out _both _of them too, you know."

The cryptids mimic their glances towards the tiny woman, realizing that her option was just as viable. The two settled themselves and complied...until Ozzie added, "Then let's go there...first"

Ray's ear twitched as he snapped back at the Owlman and said, "What?! No way! If we go to that dusty bookstore first we'll be in there for hours, I know about your _book fetish_!"

Ozzie's head flicks back at the devil as he retorts, showing a hint of genuine spite in his tone, "And _you..._ would only... take the end...of this **century**...if we go your way."

"HA! Was that actual _sarcasm_ just there? Maybe if you try a little harder, you'll finally stop talking like you're in _sllloooooowwww mmmmoooooootttiioooooonnnn_!"

"Careful...**brute**. Or I...will..."

"What? Zap me again with your freaky eye magic and steal something else from me?"

"Guys would you just chill! Seriously you two are being-"

"Awesome!"

A random voice suddenly broke the tension like a snapped twig as all three tenants turned to the oncoming crowd of local people. Both human and extraspecies began to gather around the three, looking wondrous and intrigued, specifically at Ray and Ozzie. The simple reason why this had not occurred as often as it had until now is primarily because of the fact that both of them often fly over town to coincidentally avoid this kind of scenario.

In the swarm of townsfolk, some had pulled out their digital devices to start taking pictures and sending texts and tweets and any other forms of social media outlet to announce to the world at what they have discovered and witnessed, while others approached them without any fear in their eyes as they asked them a trivia of questions such as, "Sick, a Jersey Devil! What are you doing over here in Virginia, dude?" or "Oh my god, the Owlman in real life! So does that mean you're what inspired the Mothman, or do you know him too?"

Even some of the extraspecies that may or may have not been aware of their existence marveled at their appearance and also expressed their intrigue, some of them were even a bit familiar...such as the trio of Harpies from the night before.

"Hey! I recognize you two!" The green haired one squawked accusatively at Ozzie, "You're the one that kicked us out of the bar!"

"No, you idiot!" The blond one in the middle interjected her compatriot snobbishly, "That's the one that smashed our table!"

"I think he's pretty cute!" The red one on the right declared before adding, "You think he's single? Hey are you single?"

Kaylynn managed to push herself in as she attempted to herd the crowd off, "Hey! They aint celebrities! They're not Tom Hanks and Robert Downey, back off!"

But the crowds either ignored or simply did not hear her as they continued to try and interview them like a flock of reporters. Ray was handling it better, being somewhat use to this back home where situations like this was common at his family's tavern, that and really most of the attention was focused on Ozzie, which he was feeling incredibly overwhelmed. Though they could not tell by his lack of expression, he felt like he was being suffocated, trapped in a swirling vortex of nameless faces and incoherent voices as the onslaught of unfamiliar people invaded onto him like a rainy downpour, he felt stuck, he felt cornered, he felt _threatened_...

The luminosity in his eyes intensified, the redness in his gaze flared like a lit torch. Ray knew what would happen next and without hesitation, he reached over towards Kaylynn, pulling her by her arm, and clenched her close to his body as his wings enveloped her and himself shielding them from the light. After a brief moment of blinding scarlet, the crowd found themselves dazed and confused, perplexed at what had happened, and why they were in a circle surrounding nothing but the pavement beneath their feet.

Meanwhile, the trio had escaped and hid in a nearby alleyway, completely secluded and out of the curious eye of any other potential gawkers. When it was calm again, Kaylynn was the first to speak, "Okay...so...what exactly happened back there?"

Ray folded his arms as he glared at Ozzie sternly, "_That_, is what Ozzie did to me the first time we met. Jones and I explained it to you before."

Ozzie, instead of trading some remark back at Ray, felt guilt clench his words as his tufts lowered in dismay.

But Kaylynn suddenly snapped at Ray as she said angrily, "Not _THAT_, Ray! I mean what the fuck is your guys' problem!?"

The devil was hesitant, looking down at the young woman as his posture that was once firm suddenly broke down into apprehension, where as Ozzie's tufts raised just a little higher as he stared at the human queerly.

The woman continued to rant as she started to briefly pace between the two cryptids as she continued on, "I get that you two got on the wrong foot, or hoof, or talon, whatever the hell you prefer, but this is getting ridiculous! Ever since Ozzie was put in our house, I've been getting nothing but bad vibes between you two, like you guys are ready to throw down at the drop of a hat! I mean, seriously, what is the **deal...**!?"

The two cryptids traded glances at each other, both bearing fault in their eyes, yet there was still that lingering anger under the surface, for they both wanted to spend time with Kaylynn, but neither were prepared to have the other involved.

With no response from either extraspecies, only the uncomfortable silence that followed, Kaylynn let a disappointed sigh escape her nostrils before speaking in a much softer, more gentle tone, "Okay...Okay. I'm sorry for yelling, I'd just..." Then suddenly forced an uplifting voice, as though to shrug off everything that had happened, as she inserted with, "Let's just forget about it! C'mon guys, the day is still young. Hey, how 'bout that place over there?"

She points over to what appeared to be a small arcade, one that must have been over thirty years old. It's outer walls were a faded basic white and blue scheme, looming over it's entrance was a large six bit character with the thick, blocky, red font before it that titled "Game Master". And with a name like that, it is almost undeniably dated.

The establishment did not seem very lively, probably due to it being a week day, or perhaps Attire Jaguar games isn't exactly a popular activity anymore in the 21st century. Regardless, it promised the chance for some proper fun without the intrusion of random strangers barging into Ray's and Ozzie's personal space again, they wouldn't even need to play games if they wanted to avoid any competitive play that could rekindle the spiteful rivalry between the cryptids. They could simply lounge and eat whatever snacks were at the purchase counter or just simply observe and appreciate the interior of the place, anything to recover from the drama! As long as Kaylynn found some way to get these two to get along today, that would be enough for her.

The remorse still fresh in their minds, both Ray and Ozzie agreed without argument and followed the reinvigorated human inside the establishment.

Little did they know, they were being followed. Followed by someone who carried a deep interest in our three tenants.


	14. Chapter 14: Bane of the Fei

The evening fog carried an icy bite, the Scottish winter had drawn closer than Mold had expected. His lumpy, carrot-shaped nose numb from the bitter cold's harsh touch. The same could be said for his massive ears, the ends of his plump toes, and his boney fingers. But this could not be helped, for he was a Hobgoblin, and creatures of his kind cannot tolerate such conditions so easily, wet or damp places, that was just fine, but Scotland, that was a bit much for his liking. But what could he do, _complain_? To his Mistress? Winter is a cruel maiden, that may be so, but that shriveled Bastet was far worse. He had to make with what was available to him, wearing a tattered brown leather jacket and black turtleneck sweater to shield his tender potbelly from the frosty air, matching faded onyx slacks, a pair of oversized bluchers to accommodate his ill-proportioned wart covered feet, and a musty fedora to cover what little hair remained on his scalp.

Mold has been one of the Mistress's informants for decades, and has proven to be the most _useful_. Which implied the promise of a long life until he otherwise does something to break that promise, such as _failing_. For today though, he was tasked with a very...uncomfortable assignment. Quite the interesting choice of words, I realize. What could possibly be uncomfortable for a _Hobgoblin_?

Perhaps an actual bath?

But no, this was something much worse. Dangerous even. For his reasons for being in Irvine Scotland was to meet one of the mistress's fellow syndicate head members on her behalf, a particularly..._unique_ extraspecies that is addressed only as Mister Plagues. The name rings a dreadful symphony of dread that continued to quack down his meek spine. For that name carried a great and terrible reputation that is all too well known throughout the entire syndicate. It is the name that is known by the M.O.N. and fear it just as much. It is the name that belongs to one that can truly be called...a _monster._

Needless to say, Mold was apprehensive about this errand the moment the Mistress assigned it to him. As he followed the directions given to him on his phone his flesh began to shudder. He had to remind himself to be calm, to be collective, to be absolutely respectful to this liminal, for if he wasn't, he may not be able to see the next plane home.

Eventually he found the place of where Mr. Plagues had been expecting him. It was on a pier, a ship at port with the name written on it's bow as "The Old Scratch". It was a large yacht that could house a party of thirty or more. It's appearance was just as extravagant as one of the Mistress's ships, but it carried a foul aura about it, like the scent of death breathed through it's very walls.

Hesitantly, he took slow steps up the catwalk where two escorts were waiting for him, a pair of pale skinned humans. Except these were not humans, least not internally, they definitely looked more like zombies rather than anything else. They were dressed in similar garments to Mold, except much more casual. Wearing matching stuffed leather coats, wool sowed flat caps, and black jeans. Upon approaching the two guards, one of them looked down at the hobgoblin with vacant expression as he grumbled with a husky, gravelly voice, "The boss s'been expecting ye..." He then glances to his associate with a minor smirk, as though the two had shared a private joke to each other. The guard returns his attention to the hobgoblin before inviting him to follow them inside. He complied silently as he stepped onto the ship and entered it's ominous realm. As they did, still walking casually through the corridor, the two guards' bodies suddenly began to shift and quake, their flesh undulating and stretching as their forms took on different shapes, turning into unsightly creatures, even to the eyes of a Hobgoblin like Mold. Kelpies are what they are called, considerably vile beasts capable of meager polymorphous as well as being terribly cunning and vicious to a fault. Their skin was a sickly grey, like mold on rotting flesh. They stood hunched, dwarfing the hobgoblin, whom was a below average height to begin with, by three to four feet, carrying many traits to dead horses. They stood on gangly hindquarters, their heads were flat with thin, pointed ears and long snouts full of serrated teeth. Their arms extended as long as their legs, ending in ghoulish hands. And there was their eyes. Terrible, large, gaping eyes with no color or pupils, just milky white voids, like the eyes of ghosts.

The two kelpies seemed more relaxed than they were outside, as though changing forms was as casual as taking your shoes off. But that had not disturbed Mold, not in the slightest. What truly was getting to him was the stink that seemed to thicken as they traveled deeper and deeper into the confines of the ship, the lights were intentionally dim, the smell of blood and raw meat permeated the air. And as they walked deeper into the ship, he began to hear noises. Pained, weak, dying noises that echoed through the corridor like a suffering soul yearning to be extinguished. With every step, he could feel his heart race a little faster, the sweat on his brow a little more apparent, the tremble in his legs a little more violent. Fear was slowly wrapping its hands around his neck, yet still he followed, and still he kept his composure.

They eventually reached the private quarters of the Kelpies' employer and as they opened the door for Mold, he had entered into the center of the ominous aura, the source of the agonizing sounds and the sickening odor of death. The room was dark, lit only by a single lamp head that hung above a bloody dissection table where a large entity sat behind as it tinkered with the innards of the poor liminal that was strapped down. The victim was a subspecies of merfolk, one that resembles closely to sharks. She was stripped nude and exposed as she laid bound to the table with tight restraints that had left still-raw rashes around her wrists, torso, and the end of her tail. Her body was covered in scraps and bruises, as though she had been pummeled before now, but these injuries were minor compared to what was really causing her torment. Mold stared at the mermaid's tail with shock and dread blooming in his eyes as he watched a pair of large, fleshy hands with surgical tools pick and carve at the exposed bones of the merfolk's tail. From the base of her torso leading downward just before her vital organs was this deep gapping wound that had been peeled open like a zip-lock bag, showing the vibrant pink flesh and clean white bone. The mermaid's eyes were empty and directionless as she whimpered and sobbed in pain, her voice was so rough and dry, she must've been screaming for hours until her voice had given out. As Mold looked at the scene before him with such terror stirring in his pounding heart, he felt his legs being locked in place, perfectly comfortable staying where he was.

Until he heard the entity speak to him and said calmly, "Ah...You must be the one Aaliyah sent?"

The voice was distinguishably male, it was rough, yet sinfully intelligent, deep, yet abnormally hospitable, like a corrupted preacher whom discovered his demented skills with a hatchet. Mold swallowed his fear and replied confirmatively in a gravelly voice, "Yes...I'm here on her behalf..." But as he spoke he could not keep his eyes away from those horrible hands. Those large, skinless hands, raw with red flesh, webbed, and fingers tipped with talons, yet such vicious, brutish hands held such minuscule surgical instruments with ease and care made him disturbingly curious as to what kind of torture he was conducting.

"Scrimshaw."

Mold fidgeted, his expression confused but did not say anything that may provoke him to repeat himself.

"A dying art in my opinion..." The voice elaborates, even caring a slight shred of remorse as he said it, "But I was lucky enough to find _this_ new canvas just the other day. It's quite the amusing story actually. This pathetic little M.O.N. agent, and his human partner thought it be wise to snoop around one of my cartels on the islands, but you see, that's not the funny part, what was truly _hilarious_..." The voice pauses as the form's face steadily crept out of the shadows and into the light under the lamp to reveal a horrific face. A crimson skull that was deformed, skinless, it's nasal cavity and cheekbones were exposed and edged, it bore a single eye that was not centered but was on the right of his face, the eye was a murky shade of noxious yellow, like a swirling pool of acid. And as that eye stared at the merfolk's face, her teary, pained eyes locked onto his, unable to look away as the dread and fear that were buried under numbing pain was suddenly rekindled and flared back up to the surface.

"**You didn't expect me to be there**..."

Mold was silent, not daring to utter a sound as he watched, witnessing the example of his fear for coming here be played out before him, for meeting _him_, a creature that was so ancient and awful.

In a shuddering, weak voice, the merfolk pleaded, "Please...no more..."

Refusing to break his gaze, one of his hands set aside the tool and switched it for a tall bottle of molt whiskey, then immediately doused her entire wound with burning alcohol.

The tormented agent managed one last scream of agony before her eyes rolled over and she fell limb and finally unconscious.

Plagues looked down at the comatose mermaid with a hint of disappointment before shooting a look at one of his men whom had been standing just outside the doorway.

"Take her back to the brig." He orders, "Wake her back up. My piece is not yet complete."

The kelpie complied and walked around Mold, giving him an ominous smirk, and carted the table out of the room. But just before they left, Mold managed to steal a glimpse and saw Plagues' handy work up close, noticing a long and intricate pattern of intertwining celtic symbols and shapes that were etched into the thin bones with such fine grace and precision.

It was beautiful.

Which only made it all the more terrifying.

But now, now it was Mold whom held Plagues' full attention.

Plagues adjusted his body before stepping into the full light before Mold, as the timid Hobgoblin stared up at the hulking creature, larger than even the kelpie, that loomed over him. He wore a grey buttoned vest with a white undershirt with rolled up sleeves, displaying his massive forearms that pulsed with visible black veins and raw layers of muscle and flesh. But that was as far as clothing was, for his lower torso was that of a bulky horse, standing on four powerful hooves that were as hard as stone. Protruding across his lower back and near his hindquarters was a row of thin, retractable spines that rode down a long, black, bony tail that coiled and writhed like a serpent.

How could such a beast like this exist? Mold thought.

He had heard stories that described him as horrific to look upon, but they frail in comparison to what was before him.

Well, the stories were accurate of one detail though.

And that this was _indeed_ the genuine Mister Plagues.

The Nightmare of Scotland

Mither's Devil

The Nuckelavee.

Before speaking to the little hobgoblin, he shifted his direction towards the sink and cabinet area, proceeding to wash his grotesque hands of the dripping blood that caked his exposed flesh. As he did he said intently, "You will be pleased to know that my wife and I have what your mistress requested." after turning the faucet off, he glances at Mold with his single, putrid eye as he adds, "But I am curious as to why she needs such things as Vervain and Wolfsbane."

Mold wet his lips after clearing his throat and replies hesitantly, "I rarely ever know what my boss's plans are. She tells me only what I _need_ to know...as she puts it."

Plagues lets a soft, amused chuckle escape his nasal cavity before retorting, "Of course, you're just a _goblin_. It was rude of me to assume you'd be more _useful_ for anything than just that."

His tone may have tried to seem sincere, but his words cut Mold like a rusty blade, but still retained some of his poise and didn't show any negative reaction and instead merely complied and said in return, "Then...I suppose I should take what I was sent here to grab and be out of your way...?"

Plagues turned and looked at him fully, approaching him with heavy, slow steps as he replied, "Why the rush? You've traveled so far from home. Why not stay for dinner...?" The notion alone made Mold's composure falter just a little more, as though he were standing on the edge of a cliff.

"With all do respect..." The hobgoblin replied, feeling his foot shift back, "My boss expects me to be punctual...stay any longer than I should and she'll have my hide..."

Plagues stared at him, his puss yellow eye piercing him like a dagger, as though he were not just staring into his eyes, but into his very being, searching and scraping at the deepest and darkest corners of his soul.

Or, perhaps he wasn't looking for anything in particular. Perhaps he was merely relishing in the abundant fear that was festering inside the hobgoblin like an infected wound. Watching and anticipating him squirming under his hoof like a warm in the dirt.

But, instead, he reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a vial of mysterious liquid by the tips of his claws and extends it to Mold.

He hesitated, but cautiously reaches for the vial and holds it in his palm. But Plagues' concrete grip prevented Mold from pulling it away, beckoning the hobgoblin to look back up at him as he said with a dark grin, "Send Aaliyah my regards." And then releases the vial completely.

Plagues then glances to his second subordinate and orders him to escort the hobgoblin back to the airport. Once they've left, and Plagues was finally alone once more he reached for his cellular device at his desk and makes a call, upon receiving a response he says with a grim smile, "It's me..."

"..."

"Of course."

"..."

"Now? Now we wait..."

* * *

(Disclaimer: This newest antagonist named Mister Plagues was not created solely by me. An inspiring Mr. HybridmakerV2 provided the basic concept for this character, I thank him with the utmost gratitude for providing his assistance and helping me bring this character to life your reading entertainment. He deserves every bit of credit as I do, and if he is reading this at this moment, please know that I, once again, express my deepest thanks or your contribution and hope that he is to your expectations. That concludes this message and expect the next installment of Daily Life With Monster Roommates next month.

With humble regards and sincere gratitude,

-Crowscythe)


	15. Chapter 15: Salt and Pepper

Upon entering the Game Master Arcade, they were surprised to see the immense space that was filled with dozens among dozens of game stations, there was even a seventy inch monitor screen television that was mounted unto the back wall, hooked up with an abundance of HDMI cables connecting to several different console models. There were a few games Kaylynn and Ray recognized from their youth such as House of the Dead, Street Fighter, Need for Speed, and of course the classics that everyone (with the exception of Ozzie apparently) knew of; Pacman, Galaga, even Pong.

It was quite the impressive collection of both retro and modern games.

As the trio continued their way into the arcade, Kaylynn retained in keeping her spirits up while there being still a lingering hint of animosity between the two cryptids following behind her. Ray was just as impressed, if not more by the massive menagerie of virtual devices. It was reminiscent of his days as a young buck. During those days, life for a child such as him was harsh when it came to finding means of entertainment. His father was very strict with him on never straying far from the inn and house and to always avoid the human towns, which was understandable given the times back then. However, as children often do, he had on one occasion, or two, disobeyed this rule. And the results of this act lead him to discovering the wonder of video games. Once upon a time he snuck into the ventilation of a local arcade and watched human children play the machines from the safety and shadows of the rafters. But even then, he was unable to actually play the games himself. It was only until his later teens did his family somehow managed to salvage their own game station to be included at the inn; a game that was called Gauntlet Legends.

And the hours he spent on that game were beyond the count of tolerance for his parents...but they were memorable hours worth spent, hundreds among hundreds of hours.

In some far off corner of his mind, the devil wondered if this place had their own version of it in this establishment.

Meanwhile, Ozzie stared at his surroundings as though he were an astronaut taking his first steps onto an alien spacecraft. As explained before, Ozzie was and still is a bookworm at heart, never once curious of the outside world when he was young, thus never really understood or desired the luxuries of video gaming.

Remember, the only device that could be passable for gaming was the old Macintosh, and even then, there was much left to be desired in that dinosaur of a computer.

He was completely content with his books, so being surrounded by all of these bizarre machines with their rainbow of blinking and flashing lights, bouncing bit noises, and aesthetic laser blast effects left him feeling somewhat discouraged, of course, no one would be able to read that from his vacant stare. At the very least the dimmed lighting made it easier on his eyes, making them glow just as vibrantly as the gaming monitors that were sprawled throughout the interior. It was incentive enough to have Ozzie stay close to the other's despite his antagonistic mood toward Ray at the moment

After passing the games they noticed that there was also a snack bar, it did not have the _healthiest_ food to offer, but that was expected in an arcade, it was pactically considered to be this unspoken law to have junk food be provided as you fiddled away at the controls and staring blankly at the screen of your favorite game like a corndog/high score hungering zombie. But, despite the subpar delicacies the establishment had to offer, Kaylynn knew very well of Ray's appetite.

Perhaps a hand full of chili dogs will adjust his mood, she thought.

When she proposed lunch before gaming, both the liminals complied without argument, though their attitude toward each other still remained the same. And so they sat at the snack bar and made their orders.

Coming around the back was an older human woman of Caucasian skin color, perhaps a decade or two older than Kaylynn, and a bit taller as well. Her hair was long, stringy, and an oily yellow, like spaghetti noodles. But she had a warm face that showed a display of seasoned content yet fortified confidence. She had a larger body shape than Kaylynn, a bit more meat on her bones but still retained a decent figure that suggested that she was a bombshell in her early years. Her stone blue eyes widened at the sight of her latest customers, a young lady that was accompanied by two hulking extraspecies, one that looked like he sprung from the pages of a fantasy novel while the other looked like the monster her children would describe hiding under their bed, and both looked big enough to demolish her largest game stations with little effort. But, instead of feeling nervous, she only smirked at the site before her, like she just remembered an old joke.

As she made her way over to the waiting customers, she addressed them casually and hospitably, and said, "How can I help you lot?" her voice was smooth like syrup but there was a depth of authority to her tone that made the younglings feel like they were talking to their parents. It made Kaylynn wonder if she and Maverick knew each other, for they certainly seemed like kindred spirits.

"I think I'll go for the turkey sub." Young Miss Dorsey says first as she glances at the menu that was written on a large chalk board on the overhead.

The older lady nodded as she wrote it down on a note pad then glanced over to the other two with just as much composure and said, "And what about you big guy?" She looks at Ray first.

The jersey devil looked up at the menu as well, but his mind was not focused on food all that well, his thoughts were still weighing on what had happened earlier. He felt both embarrassed and guilty for his behavior earlier, wanting to correct his mistake but was not sure how. He eventually made his choice and answered by saying, "I'll have the chilidog."

Kaylynn was surprised that he only ordered one, but said nothing about it.

The lady can tell the liminal had something on his mind, it was odd to see him looking discouraged while being with friends, she could not help but feel sympathetic for him. She nodded and complied as she added that to her notes, scribbling down something next to it in parenthesis before making her way further down the counter to now address the Owlman.

And seeing those massive red orbs of his was quite the scene to look at, she couldn't help but compare them to basket balls which only made her want to laugh internally from the thought.

"See anything you like, Bright Eyes?" She inquired.

Ozzie stared at her for a moment, his left tuft slanting slightly, perplexed at the odd nickname she just gave him. But he replied to her question and simply said, "I do not...have any...currency on me...So I will-"

"It's okay Oz, I'll cover you on the tab." Kaylynn interjected, smiling nonchalantly as she dismissed it as no concern.

Ozzie, if he managed better abilities in expression, he might've looked appreciative at the kind gesture. He then looked back at the bar owner with a hint of hesitation and said instead, "...Oh...I'll have a carbonated...beverage then...uhm...the ginger ale...if you have it...?"

"One ginger ale, coming right up." The lady replied as she gave Kaylynn a suggestive glance and smirked before jotting down Ozzie's order. Miss Dorsey was not entirely sure what that look was for, but she took it as a sign of approval and a complimentary gesture.

"And as for you?" the lady addressed the fourth customer.

Wait, a fourth?

"Jalapeño nachos, por favor! Extra cheese!" the feminine voice responds with perky demeanor, invoking the other three to instantly turn and look in unison to the interloper sitting next to them. They didn't even notice this person had come through the door let alone sit right next to them, but there she was.

She was a liminal, but one that Kaylynn had never seen before, neither on the news nor in any sort of cryptid documentary. She was reptilian, given her scaly green skin as an obvious hint, bearing a striking resemblance to some type of anthropomorphic lizard, like an iguana or gecko. She had a petite, boxy snout with thin nostrils, her skull was round and smooth and homed a pair of large human eyes that bore a beautiful yellow that glistened like raw honey.

But that was not the only captivating trait on her, for her exposed cranium displayed a tied bundle of massive feathers, feathers that bathed in strong, splashing colors of blues ad reds that blended superbly together like an artist's pallet. More feathers that played in the same colors swathed across her forearms, and a large plume swept at the end of her flexible tail as she gently brushed it back and fourth like a giant fan.

Her choice of fashion though could've used some work in Kaylynn's opinion, as they noticed her choice of garments was a custom amethyst hoodie with sowed fox ears and rolled up sleeves, a pair of jeans that had clashing colors on each leg, one being neon green and the other neon orange, and her digitigrade feet wore toeless long socks of pink and purple stripes that enveloped over the lower leggings of her pants.

To add more absurdity to the choices in fashion, around her wrists and the end of her tail before the cloud of feathers were an assortment of various gilded bracelets. Weather they were real gold or not seemed irrelevant in comparison to the rest of her...unique attire.

Ridicilous as she may have dressed, it was certainly captivating enough to ensnare all three tenants' attention.

Very much aware of the staring, she glances at them with a toothy grin, showing rows of her white, little, and very serrated fangs. But despite the display of such lethal teeth, her smile was as sincere as she was sprightly, as she spoke first and said, "Hola!"

The three continued to stare at her, but eventually Kaylynn was the first to speak and said with a hint of awkwardness, "Uhm...Hi...?"

The strange liminal girl let out a joking sigh of relief, "Oh thank Tree Papi, for a moment there I thought you guys were a group of mutes. Well, only _you_ spoke, so maybe these two are the mutes? Or maybe you guys are the type of liminals that speak differently, like don't even use words but just noises, like those buggy look'n ones that go like clickclickclickhisshissclickSCREEEEclickclickclick!"

The trio simply continue to gawk at her quietly, internally baffled and disoriented by her bizarre behavior. Eventually, one of them responded to the peculiar extraspecies, this time being Ray as he said while blinking, "Excuse us but who or..._what _are you?"

"I was just about to ask you the same question there, amigo, you and Headlights here." She gestures a nod towards Ozzie, his left tuft twitching at the remark as he mutters curiously under his breath, "Headlights...?"

"But you asked first so I'll oblige you. Name's Paprika, and I..." Her face suddenly turned dark and ominous, but any chance of her successfully being intimidating was brushed aside the moment she opened her mouth again using an over-the-top ghostly tone as she wiggled her fingers as though she were mimicking an old cartoon villain and said, "..._am one of the deadliest creatures ever seen by the eyes of maaaAAAaaaAAAaaannn. I am the great, the terrible, _but also adorable, _**BASILISCO~!**_"

"You're nachos are done lil miss, enjoy." The manager returns with a decently sizable basket of nachos practically swimming in gooey cheese topped with an absurd amount of jalapeños slices. She slides it over to her before returning to the back to finish the rest of the meals.

The proclaimed Basilisco instantly squealed with delight as she directed all of her attention on the tantalizing mess of cheesy goodness that was now laid before her. Without mercy, she plunged in, gorging on the subpar chips like they were ambrosia.

While she was distracted, Kaylynn discreetly leans over toward Ray and Ozzie and whispers to them, "So...What's a Basilisco?"

"No clue..." Ray admits while still staring at Paprika as she continued to ravage her nachos.

"It's Mexican..." Ozzie begins to state, his gaping red eyes remained locked on to her as well, "...for basilisk."

Kaylynn's expression contorted into both shock and confusion, "Wait...Like the giant snake from that wizard school movie?"

"That was...a terrible...rendition of it...but yes..."

"Anyone want to fill _me_ in...?" Ray interjects.

"The Basilisk...is a creature that...was believed...to kill anything...just by... looking at them...But...seeing as we...are still alive..." Before Ozzie could finish, he was interrupted by a petite belch of satisfaction. What had remained of Paprika's meal was the discarded basket licked clean of all its contents.

"That's just superstitious horse crap." Paprika states as she licks her claws of any remnants, "We can't kill anyone just by simply _gawking_ at them, that's just boring."

"That's a relief..." Ray sarcastically remarks from the corner of his muzzle towards Kaylynn. Not convince in the initial description to begin with.

"Instead we shoot poison out of our eyes."

The trio's expression all panned in perfect synchronization and like a sole entity responded with a single word in unison, "...What..."

Paprika nodded nonchalantly, oblivious to their paled faces, "Yup yup, pretty neat right? We got these little tiny glands in our eyes, see. Like tear ducts 'cept _way_ more dangerous, and they can squirt out toxins at our attackers. You wanna see?"

"I'm good."

"Same."

"I would."

"Ozzie!" Kaylynn and Ray spouted at him.

"I do though..."

The Basilisco snickers loudly with mirthful amusement. "I'm just kidding, I'm not _that_ evil." She admits with a playful smirk.

The rest of the food was served to the three tenants, the manager lady still remaining unfazed by the conversation as though this were one of the more _tamed_ discussions she had the pleasure of overhearing. But, the trio seemed too attentive on the strange liminal sitting next to them to bother touching their orders, most likely because of loosing their appetite almost immediately after learning that..._interesting_ detail about Paprika's species.

For the sake of being spared any further mental images of such a disturbing quality, Ray changes the subject without hesitation and goes straight to the point, "So...I'm gonna be that guy and say, why the hell are you talking to us?"

Paprika laughs, "Is that your pickup line for all the ladies?"

Ray's snout let's out a sharp snort of contempt but then retains his patience as he retorts, "Look, no offence, but I'm just asking, yer kind of a stranger to us..."

"Sorry but, I agree with him." Kaylynn chimes in as well, "We don't mean to be rude but, you just seem interested in us and we just want to know why."

"Do I need a reason to socialize other than for the sake of socializing?"

The human hesitates, "Well...I guess not...but..." then was cutoff by Paprika as she adds, "But no, I do have another reason besides that."

Kaylynn as well as the others were beginning to feel like she was making fun of them.

But then, the Basilisco's expression gradually changed. After taking a moment to check if the manager was still present and to be relieved that she had already returned to the back and out of earshot, her smile faded and her eyes darkened, but this time it was genuine. It was clear in her voice and tone that she was being sincere in what she was about to say as she looked at all three of the tenants with a glint of fear in her gaze as she leans towards them, and whispers solemnly, "I'm being hunted..."


	16. NOTICE (Actual One)

**WARNING**

This is not a new chapter to the main story.

This is merely a notice.

This will be removed once future updates resume.

Those that follow this writer's work are advised to read the following.

Thank you.

I had meant to upload this notice sooner, but alas, other responsibilities had demanded my immediate attention, as they usually do.

This is merely the usual notice to inform those whom have been following Daily Life With Monster Roommates that I shall be switching my efforts back to Life of a Hunter: The School for Monsters until my quota of 5 chapters is reached.

Those that also follow that story will be warned that I will be editing some, but not all, previous chapters before the next update is submitted.

As for any other readers curious as to the future of less frequently updated stories such as SMITE and Daily Life With a Monster Dad, be at ease that I will update those soon as well.

I thank you for your understanding and continued support.

With humble regards, and sincere gratitude,

-Crowscythe


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